


hufflethin

by flameomango



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff Reader, Hufflepuff/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, My First Fanfic, Not Kiddie Hogwarts, One Shot, Original Character(s), Party, References to Drugs, Rough Sex, Short One Shot, Slytherin, Slytherpuff, Smut, Underage Drinking, first harry potter attempt, first reader type pov, mature - Freeform, obsessed with draco malfoy, slytherin x hufflepuff - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 218,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flameomango/pseuds/flameomango
Summary: Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. The holy Amortentia is uniquely distinctive for it's great revelation of one's soulmate by their rare scent. Brewed correctly, the Amortentia potion can unite destined pairs in a bond stronger than blood and divulge them into love like no other, pure gaiety in the arms of their rightful other.For this Hufflepuff, the last thing she wanted was a fate tethered to a bloody Slytherin like Draco Malfoy. Even as polar opposites, they can't ignore their destined desire. Not even for lavishing forces that conspire against their wishes.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Reader, George Weasley/Reader
Comments: 73
Kudos: 374
Collections: Draco Malfoy Mostly





	1. First Facade

**Author's Note:**

> Smut primarily, but is slowly becoming a real story thanks to all that take the time to read, leave comments and kudos, you are the reason I want to keep writing! I love you all!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amortentia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started off as just smut, but has become a real story thanks to the support of everyone of the amazing readers! I love you all, I really hope you enjoy this story! (I think it gets better, you just have to make it through a couple of awful chapters)
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Following the incident that occurred in Potions with the Amortentia, you had been relentlessly attempting to avoid any and all contact with him. 

You just couldn’t fathom the betrayal you'd endured from your own fate. Being bound to someone like him was a brutally cruel joke you were still waiting on the revelation of. Truth be told, you didn’t want to be attracted to him, nor did you fancy desiring a bastard bully like Draco Malfoy. You had dreamed your entire life for that moment, pleasantly surprised Professor Snape had deemed it appropriate to conjure such an advanced brew. You had spaced out when he’d begun passive, disputing disagreements with Hermione Granger, which seemed to result in the damning retribution of not only Gryffindor, but the entire class. It was a spiteful sentence shamed upon all of you in the wake of Hermione “speaking out of turn” when truly just voicing her own thoughts. You could hear Draco snickering sickly behind you, sneering to his friends in a tone not intended for whispering purposes. He wanted everyone to hear him repulsively remark about her with his favorite scornful slander. Similar to those who you chose to accompany your time with, you weren’t in the slightest concerned about one’s blood-status. You thought the way Pure-Bloods revolted belittlement onto those different from themselves was a ridiculous repression. Draco Malfoy just happened to be the wicked and rotten embodiment of only the worst of their kind. Your kind.

Amortentia. Why did it have to be Amortentia?

You’d never considered yourself as anything less than friendly when it came to Hermione. You didn’t know her well, but you had always gone out of your way to show kindness when the opportunity presented itself. You had befriended her first year, seeing that she seemed to be struggling with her own acquirement of friends. You both spent a considerable amount of time lingering in the library for slightly contrary reasons, but still found it as a common foundation for you both. She was there to waste away countless hours on her studies, and you were there to attend to the fantastic collection of fantasy, fairy tales and fiction at your fingertips. Hogwarts was truly a sight to behold for immeasurable illustrations. 

Nevertheless, following this class, you harbored flawed animosity towards you. You were positive it came with just the misdirection of your own confusion, candidly not able to foster onto resented feelings towards really anyone. You just wished it never happened, and focusing the blame on Granger just made it easier to stay sane, while completely ignoring it. Refusing to acknowledge its existence seemed like a bad idea, but it was all you could really manage.

The disbelief of even having a soulmate always havened a hollowly innate echo in the back of your mind, but you held true to the dream of another made just for you. Heavens knew you had much love in your heart, ready to accept anyone with nothing but open arms and cheerful merriment. You were so nervous, but held a contently controlled handle over yourself to assure you followed the recipe as instructed in the sepia pages of your book. You didn’t doubt yourself in the accurate achievement of the Amortentia Potion, right up until the uneasily balanced, but slightly delicious smell of green apples, godly peppermint and rich cologne flooded your senses from just the tiniest whiff of the poisonous philter. 

Initially, you hadn’t identified it’s source.

You actually allowed yourself to bathe in its creation, blinded by the blissful scent that overcame each of your senses. You felt it everywhere from the moment it blessed through an accidental inhale, cursing through your veins and eliciting excitement and allured enchantment you had never witnessed. All of these feelings were foreign and unfamiliar, but welcomed in impatient avarice fascinating sinking down to your core. You were breathless, but tried to remain unbothered with the blush that blossomed to your cheeks. You were curious and completely captivated, until you heard the taunting sound of his voice behind you that shattered everything. A numbness neglected your limbs, isolating all of the now guilty feelings flared through you while he sneered the name of your own. 

You didn’t breathe, desperately clutching onto the rim of your desk to prevent a sign of discomfort or disorder to seep from you and alert those around you. The others had gone around, revealing what they had smelt and then silenced, informing you of their eager expectancy. They were anticipating, waiting rather impatiently for you to define what your elixir had revealed. You panicked and decided to just laugh it off, accepting the poor judgement from Professor Snape and a general assessment that you'd just brewed the potion in error. You couldn’t help but recognize your own humiliation, but also the disappointment from Professor Snape who was issuing House Deductions left and right. 

More specifically, you felt an unease in the figure sitting beside you, who offered to assist in perfecting the potion for you. Cedric Diggory had anticipated an equal response in your own potion. He too was surprised to hear you hadn’t smelt a thing, possibly more confident in your own magic than you were. “Someone like Cedric”, you thought. You would have been honored to love someone like Cedric Diggory, even if the poor lad had to retake Potions with the younger class because he was not successful in passing Snape's OWLs on this now third year in a row. 

But why was Cedric so concerned with your own brew? He had revealed just a few moments prior that his Amortentia shared similar characteristics he’d identified only in your presence. It was no secret that Cedric Diggory was charming, kind, handsome obviously, and above all, a caring gentleman who always tended to perceive you as a treasured friend. Almost like you were a gift from the heavens, one he'd believed to be his. 

You couldn’t hurt him, he was your best-friend. You were overly frustrated and disappointed to find he wasn’t the one who you'd been bonded to, tethered even as folklore would have it. Cedric was overly enlightened when you were around, never hesitating at the opportunity to spend time with you. He was like a noble puppy of sorts, one you'd particularly appreciated with the extra help to your magic, which seemed to always lack a certain element of perfection that Cedric was innate to. He was a remarkable wizard, even if Professor Snape and his academics seemed to disagree. As great of a wizard as he was turning out to be, you found a secret amusement in listening to him ramble at how Professor Snape had it out for him. You were the sole subject that made re-attending the entire course bearable. You always held such respect for Cedric, one of the golden faces of Hufflepuff, he was quite a role-model. You didn't think you would hesitate to love him, if only a certain destiny hadn’t been written for you.

Malfoy hadn’t known either. The bloke cursed violently from behind you, exposing his significant distaste for the scent he was vexed with after taking a bloody whiff of his own Amortentia. He swore at how blatantly vile something like vanilla was, and to mix it with hints of clementine and lilac. You made a mental note to switch soaps, even shrinking away from the friendly chatter which had marginalized at your own desk. It struck a nerve in you, but you remained silent, appreciating that he’d managed to keep his voice relatively low, his insult directed to only really be heard by Crabbe and Goyle, who joined in mockery. You would have dread for Cedric to realize his own announcement of the exact scent with such gratification and tenderness was the same that Draco had ridiculed remorselessly not a few moments later from sections away.

You were to blame when Draco finally realized the true nature of your conflicts shortly after you. You both had collided in the corridor only once you had realized you'd forgotten your insignia in the classroom, nearly disrupting a private meeting between Malfoy and Professor Snape. 

You were still upset about the whole discovery, attempting to accept it was really just an ill-potion belief that it must have been wrong. You didn't stop trying to disprove it at every angle with your gaze on your slippers. You slammed to a stop at the first sound of Malfoy’s ignorant tone in a rather rude discussion with Professor Snape, who managed to keep a calm tone while Malfoy threw a usual fit. You were more than aware he put just the minimum into Potions, falling short in surpassing Hermione, even with Snape’s fondness. Draco was simply under the assumption that his family name was enough, especially with Snape. You had tried to draw yourself away from the commotion, knowing it was not your place to eavesdrop on such a conversation, but your feet remained perched right outside the entrance. You hadn't even realized Malfoy’s voice was growing closer until it was too late to escape. Draco was attempting to storm from the room in a huff at the same time you had turned to leave, causing the pair of you to crash.

It was utterly just a brief second. 

Draco's voice was cut off by the beginnings of a sneered curse towards the imbecile who had just neglected to pay attention to where they were going, which happened to be your foolish self. He was stopped the moment his glare met your eyes and the truth flooded the space between you. He didn’t say anything and you were ultimately glad there was no further hate he’d care to remark on. Yet, you couldn't deny that just his eyes made your stomach churn, battling off the butterflies that bloomed through your insides. 

He was about to start complaining about a poor Hufflepuff when you straightened up and excused yourself immediately, not granting him another spec of hesitation. You hurried back into the room without uttering a syllable to Snape, who watched you retrieve the yellow scarf that had remained at your desk and then bolt silently from the classroom just as quickly as you'd entered, nearly sprinting past Malfoy. Draco reached out to catch your arm but you slipped past him and kept going. 

Draco called after you, definitely not your name, but tried a number of insults that you refused to react to. You didn’t stop, clutching worn books to your chest tightly with your chin down. You calmed yourself down by counting the stone floor until you emerged in the grass of the Courtyard. You picked up your head to see Cedric motioning you over and swallowed everything that just happened, quietly settling beside him in the group of your mutual Hufflepuff friends. You were still thinking about it, as much as you tried to bury it inside. 

Since then, you have been effectively avoiding any and all possible encounters with Draco Malfoy. 

You avoided his gaze most of the time, brushing him off and sticking close to Cedric and the others, even appreciating more opportunities with the Weasley’s rather than exploring the grounds or lulling in the library like you had been previously accustomed to passing your time. George had found you studying in the library with Hermione one afternoon, there to pester Granger until he settled on dragging you away. Hermione claimed it was because you gave in too easily, you rebutted that she should have warned you better beforehand and tore her along too. The three of you joined the remainders of their larger Gryffindor crowd in the Great Hall. You appreciated the humor of the group, exceptionally elicited by the energy that kept your mind distracted from the nagging reality that Draco Malfoy continued to exist. 

A shame. 

If you chose to adhere to the translucent translations that could be deciphered in the Amortentia-- he was your Soulmate.

You wished you could just follow Cedric around all day, loving his company most and begging the heavens to consider granting your destiny just the smallest tweak. Yet, Cedric happened to be a few years older, so most of your time was spent apart. Why couldn't it have been Cedric? Draco, of all people? He was an insensitive little cretin. You were well aware of his intentions when it came to Harry and how he treated others-- he was nothing but an egotistical jerk, and a bully, if anything. 

To be completely fair, you could also recognize his good looks. You didn’t doubt he was handsome, especially after growing up with him for years. You had always been immune to any attempted attraction and refused to even consider someone like Malfoy enough to develop a likeness or crush. You wanted a good love-- a long and happy love. A love you had seen in your parents, Soulmates as well, lucky to find one another through their own Hogwarts journey. You just wanted something familiar, but your own. Something good, which Draco Malfoy was far from.

Thunderstorms were amazing here at Hogwarts.

You could find every stained glass window just as mesmerizing to watch the rain pour and lightning strike. Cedric and the others were still out practicing Quidditch in the Pitch, trying to fly in a storm which resulted in a couple slipping and becoming muddy, wet dogs trudging around in puddles of slush. As much as he loved the sport, Cedric also happened to love mud, so he was not upset in the slightest when it came to getting dirty. 

It made you giggle to yourself while passing by, waving light flexes of your digits towards Cedric with a polite smile. You figured since Potter was there with the other Gryffindors neighboring Hufflepuff, the remainder of the group would most likely have been in the library or studying. It always amazed you how well the Houses could get along, if not for Slytherin. 

Cedric talked to you about most of the Quidditch agendas, his own rival but considerable friend, Oliver Wood, the current Captain and Keeper, was very open about sharing the Pitch with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff if the need arose. As long as he was able to get his team in order and unbothered, Wood found that the Pitch was big enough for all four teams to occupy practice. However, it was never so simple with Slytherins. Friendly scrimmages between Houses would turn into sending valuable players to Madame Pomfrey with Wood swearing it was a conspiracy derived purposefully from Slytherin. You didn’t doubt Wood, friends with him from Cedric as well. 

You used the opportunity of free time in a storm to sneak away to a secret spot hidden in one of the far corridors. The perfect place, where the windows were clearest to peer out of. When you had first discovered your spot, you really only used it for the lighting to doodle since it opened enough and would allow fresh air in. You believed it was the best site to curl up in, perched against the glass while sitting on the window sill with your notepad out, casting your emotions into floral patterns on the blank parchment. That had been just first year. You currently pushed open the window to welcome rainy air, listening to the sweet sound of thunder overhead while dark clouds moved through the sky.

You had been so lost in your art that you hadn’t noticed the sound of footsteps creeping up on you while you sketched lightly with the side of a lead pencil, flinching so hard at the sudden voice from behind you that your pencil had actually gone flying.

“What is this? Our resident little princess all alone during a storm? Surprised you’re not hiding under a bed somewhere crying to your mum," Draco snickered, his teasing tone slithering over shoulder. Your hands pulled together in the center of your book, a sigh emitted from your lips as you rolled your eyes and refused to grant him access to your gaze. He took your silence as an invitation to snatch the pencil from it’s new place across the floor, and then proceeded to slide into the opposite side of the window sill. You hated the cocky grin that customarily cemented itself upon his lips as he wedged himself comfortably across from you, his feet nearly kicking your own in it's close proximity.

“What could you possibly want, Malfoy?” you finally asked, batting your eyes open with an annoyed tone in your voice. You hesitantly met the sharp features of Draco’s face and he simply smirked back at you, fingers toying with your pencil between his digits.

“Someone isn’t happy to see me. I say, not very Hufflepuff of you, little puff. No bloody rainbows and smiles for everyone?” Draco teased once more. Your patience was thinning, irritated to just be listening to his sarcastic words and replying with the closing of your pad with a light grit of your teeth. Draco held up his hand, shaking his head as he pointed the tip of her pencil towards you. “Ah, but as bloody dramatic as a Hufflepuff. Teasing, merely, l/n. Don’t get your panties in a bloody twist,” Malfoy danced your pencil once more over his knuckles, his wrongful attempt to convince you to stay. You reached for your pencil, only to be met with another toying motion as Draco pulled it back with a soft snicker.

“Keep my panties out of your thoughts, Malfoy,” you warned, amusing him whilst you settled back into the comfort of the window sill. Another strike of lightning flashed through the dark clouds, catching your attention more desirable than Draco possibly could. Malfoy watched your eyes light up in intrigue, the shadows of the sky reflecting upon your gentle features briefly.

“Why would I want to do that? I’ll no doubt be in them soon enough,” Malfoy chuckled, the arrogantly smug smirk only pulling wider. A surprised gasp escaped your lips, causing you to instinctively kick his leg, unintentionally playfully. Draco faked a painful wince while clutching his leg.

“Rather cheeky of someone who stands no chance of getting even close,” you played into his game, a blush of embarrassment flushing to your pale cheeks. You reached forward and victoriously nicked the pencil from his grip in his moment of forced, fake pain. “Take it in, Malfoy. This is as close as you’ll be getting.”

“Isn’t violence against the moral code for you measly Huffles? Gosh, a wicked kick you’ve gotten there, must have learned that from the filthy mudbloods,” Malfoy’s tone had changed, watching you pull your knees to your chest while tapping the pencil against the bare skin of your knee, sketchpad folded to your chest. “It sounds like that is a challenge. I'm not one to back down from a ridiculous dare, y/n.”

Your brows knitted together at his change in tone, the insult upon those you enjoyed spending your time with obviously implied. You were no longer in a lightened mood as Malfoy showed his true nature. “Something I can help you with, Malfoy? Or do you happen to just be here to dwell on your pitiful existence? If so, please find another damsel who actually cares to listen,” you stated, tracing your free hand through the light waves of your hair. The rain became harder outside, it’s volume against the glass drumming loudly in the space between you. Draco rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“If it was not obvious, I am trying to buy a moment of your intimate, adoring company, my dear,” Draco chimed. You noted a hint of uncertainty, a sort of sinful sincerity on his lips that caused distraction and unease to ring through the pit of your stomach, mirroring a glance out the window.

“What is the catch, now, Draco? Hm? What could possibly be in it for you if it really is just a moment of my time you require?” you asked him, still gazing out the window. You wondered what he could possibly answer, what was his true intent of being here? Your finger reached up to trace over the small droplets of water that raced down the glass, Draco still perceiving your motions carefully, tossing his noggin onto the concrete behind him.

“Perhaps the two of us can stop playing this game now, y/n. You know as well as I do that you shall leave the trickery to me,” Malfoy was serious now, the humor in his voice replaced by an impatient disposition in his tone as it raised.

“Not an idea what you are speaking of, Malfoy,” you replied clearly, the lump growing in your throat while flashing your eyes back to where Draco sat across from you. He sat up straight, brows furrowed together. He laughed, a cynical snicker.

“You are joking, are you not?” Draco asked, sarcastically. You just started at him, forcing the emotions to remain at bay while attempting to keep up the ploy of being absolutely clueless. “You must be more foolish than I thought.” You tried not to react with his insult, obviously not enjoying the spurn stab.

“Enough, Malfoy!” you suddenly snapped, kicking out your legs on the opposite side of the window sill to start fleeing, just as your book fell from your lap. Malfoy was up as well, ready to chase after you but instead, reaching for your book first. You cut him off before he could even start, extending your hand, “give it back, Malfoy."

“Listen to me, l/n!” Draco called, holding your book tucked into his side while his hand moved up to block your escape. “You would decree me a mere fool if you expect me to fall at your feet and beg, but this is not something that you may just bloody ignore. I haven’t been able to… It haunts me, something about that bloody odor,” Malfoy raised his voice, the tension between you both picking at your nerves as you squirmed before him, nails digging into the sleeve of your robe. You couldn’t focus on anything, the fact he was thinking about her was enough to fry your sensibility. You tried not to be offended by the fact he decided to call your natural presence an odor.

“You are mad, Draco Malfoy,” you laughed back, finally folding your arms across your chest with another step towards him, daring him to lose his temper. “Begging would be nothing but wretched from someone like you. And for the last time, I have no idea what you are speaking of!” You cursed at him, the aggravation only growing more contempt while observing Draco, jaw clenched together. Malfoy’s face refused to soften, matching your step forward to appear even more riled, glaring daggers down at you. You really wanted to bundle up and drown herself in some ridiculous bonfire scent rather than the scent of apples that mocked her senselessly standing so close to Draco.

“I’m growing bored of your lies, darling,” he scowled, taking another step towards you, only causing you to jet a couple back. “You know exactly what I am talking about, you god forsaken puff,” he spat once more, this time trapping you between the wall with a swift gesture to slam both of his palms against the wall. You gasped, Malfoy now standing nearly on top of you to press you into the wall, just a couple of inches remaining between you both. Blood rushed to your cheeks again involuntarily, the butterflies roaming through your stomach screamed for you to close the distance, heart skipping a beat. You ignored it.

“You are impossible, Draco Malfoy!” you exclaimed, finally finding your voice. You met the volume in his tone and matched his anger, putting your hands on his arms and swatted them from their places upon either side of your head. “You’re a fool for sweet talk and charm, but a loathsome jerk in and through. You’re a bully, and a Slytherin, for heaven's sake," you hadn't realized you were suddenly on a rampage, shoving Malfoy back and attempting to walk past him with your emotions flared. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise at the backbone on this Hufflepuff. “You want the truth, Malfoy? I didn’t want this. I wanted real love, not apples and peppermint, Draco! You ungodly, ignorant, self-centered--”

Malfoy was quick. In the midst of your ranting, while you had been distracted and happened to be storming this way and that in quickened paces, his hand locked on your arm and the next second, you were suddenly being spun around mid-sentence until you crashed against his chest. He wore a twisted grin when he crashed his lips down onto yours, his hands on your waist while you froze under his kiss. You were alarmed, shocked at the sudden move with a troublesome fit of electricity coursing through your veins as the nerves spreading through your limbs seemed to tingle through his single kiss. You didn’t want to admit that you were instantly upset when the feeling lingered away and you batted your lashes open to focus on Draco’s grinning features.

“And you are also impossible, little puff. Of all things? A Hufflepuff. What will I ever do with someone so pure?” Draco simpered, reaching out to hesitantly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You hadn't the slightest clue how, but you managed to get lost in his eyes, letting a soft sigh escape your lips.

“Hufflepuffs aren’t innocent angels, Malfoy,” you rolled your eyes in a gentle tone, moving up to caress the pale blonde strands of his hair. He cocked a brow, a smirk rising on his lips again. You laughed at this motion, continuing with the clarification, “not all of us, at least.” And with that, you wrapped your arms around his neck and drew him back to your lips, kissing him deeply. Draco smirked against your soft brims, kissing you just as lustfully and giving your hips a soft squeeze as your lips moved in sync against one another. You let out an involuntary gasp, only causing him to drag you in tighter as your blind snogging session seemed to float right back to the window sill, the sound of a violent rainstorm echoing out in the middle of your argument. Your lips remained locked, as if the world would end if they took even a moment to catch their breath. Malfoy was intoxicated by your kiss, the gentle heat created between you grew hotter when Draco had bent down to scoop you off her legs. As if on command, you felt yourself giving into him and your legs suddenly wrapping around his waist, supporting yourself through his hold.

Draco sat back on the window sill with you in his lap, the lust and hunger for one another was unlike anything either of you had felt before. You felt something inside of you screaming in a way that wanted Malfoy more than you wanted to breathe. Your lungs were on fire and you were gripping Draco’s short strands with fire as you lightly grinded your hips against his lap. The short movement was enough for Malfoy to groan quietly on your lips, enough for you both to catch a needed breath, but only for a short time. Draco’s lips found their way to your neck in the split moment, planting gentle kisses down your collarbone and sucking passionately on the soft spot on your throat, only causing you to bite your lip and toss your head back in a hushed moan. You pressed yourself down deeper into his lap, still pulling at his hair while your free hand pushed the sleeves of his robe from his shoulders. Draco could feel you, your skirt not long enough to prevent your cotton panties from rubbing against the bulge in his pants. You pulled his head up enough to reunite your lips, he pulled you in by the yellow tie around your neck, also loosening it from your neck whilst his hands grazed up your sides tenderly.

“We... shouldn’t… be doing this,” you whispered against his lips through your kisses, Draco listening partially while his hands cascaded over your hips and rested graciously on your ass.

“Do you want to stop, y/n?” Draco offered against your own lips, letting his hand reach up to caress her cheek in order to ask the question sincerely. You brushed your thumb against his bottom lip with a light hum, licking your red lips while they both heaved heavily. You shook your head, eyes locked with his own.

“We can’t. Not here," you explained in a break from reality, both of you realizing you were still in the middle of the corridor. Draco chuckled, leaning his head into your collar for comfort and then nodding his head in agreement. You both took a minute to ponder a better setting for this kind of interaction.

“Back to mine?” Malfoy offered. You took a moment, playing with the white collar of his dress shirt while arguing with the disbelief you debated following Draco Malfoy inviting you back to his to finish your... moment. You wanted this. You kissed his lips again in a gentle peck, pulling yourself off his lap and wrestling him for the return of your tie.

“I need that, Malfoy,” you laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow while he adjusted his robe. Draco winked back, holding your yellow tie away while he tucked your doodle book under his arm, standing up right beside you.

“Let me,” Draco carefully fastened your tie, sure to pull it up a little tight so your frame arched up into him, allowing him the perfect angle to plant a peck onto your lips once more. “Ten minutes," he declared, causing you to grin with a slight roll of your eyes. Draco finally released your tie and walked down the hall, giving you a second to yourself just to let everything sink in. You leaned against the window sill to brace yourself.

“What have you gotten yourself into, you bloody nutjob! This is Draco Malfoy, you idiot! Bad guy, remember?” you shushed yourself in whisper-yells, quite sure you were losing it as you wiped the corners of your mouth. You were randomly speaking to yourself out loud after snogging Draco Malfoy, of all people. You straightened your skirt with a deep inhale, tucking the pencil behind your ear and heading down towards the Slytherin house, a slow pace to assure you were being subtle and also not running after Malfoy. You continued to politely smile at the others in the halls to keep your casual façade up, glad that most were on their way to enjoy dinner at the moment. Once reaching the Slytherin passage, you did get a couple of strange looks but managed to keep casual. You waited off to the side, struggling to appear nonchalant until a Slytherin student passed through the passage and you were able to catch the door before it closed, tucking yourself inside. You fled through the common room and straight to the boys dormitory, not sure which one happened to be Malfoy's until a door opened and a grip on your arm immediately yanked you into a room.

As soon as the door locked behind you, you were suddenly shoved against the back of the door and Draco was pressed to your front, kissing your lips just as hungrily while pulling you tightly against him. You was out of breath instantly, pushing off his robe whilst he worked on your own, once again ripping your tie off and tossing it aside. Your lips stayed together, Draco caressing the sides of your face while your shaky fingers tugged at the small buttons of his shirt. You pulled on his dark emerald tie as well and Draco suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the wooden door above your head. You let out a soft groan while breathing against his rough lips, Draco using his free hand to trace his fingertips down your neck and across your collar and then finally over your breasts through your top. You tossed your head back against the door with another sweet sound escaping your lips. Draco started again on your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin while pressing himself harder into you.

“Malfoy…” you whispered his name in a pleasurable moan while struggling to keep your feet from turning into jello below you, hands still pinned harshly to the door. You sunk into your legs in an attempt to get him closer to you, using the angle of his legs to pull yourself back up and wrap her legs around his hips once more. Draco nipped harder at the soft spot on your neck, causing your cranium to roll as whilst Draco shoved himself deeper into the space between your legs.

“I want you, little puff,” Draco groaned against your collar, finally granting you your hands as he released his grip and allowed you to pull herself off the door with Draco’s hands dropping down to hold your ass against him, maneuvering over towards his bed. He laid you down gently, kissing your lips and ripping the remainder of his shirt off, your parting giving you enough time to remove your top as well. You caught Draco’s attention in an enchanted gaze, his hands exploring your curves before he kissed you passionately. It was a strangely genuine embrace that welcomed his hand snaking around your backside to unhook your bra and toss it aside. You were out of breath, everything becoming more difficult to focus on as the lust began to control you, eager and excited hands reaching down to pull at his belt and throw it away. Malfoy pressed hungry kisses against the soft skin of your breasts, large hands massaging the soft pillows that had you sighing and gasping louder, especially as his kisses turned to biting and sucking. You were already close.

“Take me, Draco, please… Now," you begged softly, pulling him back up to your lips while they both worked to free themselves of bottoms. You slid your skirt from your hips as Draco sat up to rid himself of his trousers. Malfoy fell back to your lips, kissing you hard as he snuck his fingers down over the fabric of your lace panties, your breath catching sharply. Without a moment of hesitation, Malfoy was suddenly plunging a finger deep inside you, causing your back to arch and your hips to meet his hand, gasping loud. “Malfoy!” you moaned again, Draco adding another finger to dive deep inside you while Draco snickered into the fold of your neck.

“Say it, love,” he bit your neck and you wrapped an arm around his neck, nails gripping his shoulder hard while panting. You obeyed, matching your hips to the curls of his fingers which worked inside you.

“Fuck me, Malfoy,” you begged, looking up at him with a moaned plea, catching his lips in a deep kiss whilst Draco slid your panties off your hips. Draco accepted with pride, his desire for you overpowering any reality that existed outside of this room. He positioned himself straight between your legs and pressed his forehead to your, taking a moment to assure he was pacing himself slowly upon entrance inside of you.

You rolled up into him, still trying to muffle your loud sounds of pleasure as Draco thrusted deep inside of you. Your hips rocked at the same speed while Draco groaned into your ear, kissing you roughly again while you both seemed to gasp against one another’s lips. You seized an opportunity to catch his lips again and nipped at his bottom lip, earning a gruff groan from Malfoy who quickened his pace inside of you, your fingers gripping onto his shoulders as he began to fuck you harder and faster, losing his own hold. His hand slid up the length of your arm to intertwine your fingers, both of you squeezing one another’s hands as Draco pushed you deeper into the comfort of his cot. You were getting very close, the passion between you making it so much harder to control your body while you tightened to him for stability, Draco holding your bare body close to his as he panted against your skin. He couldn’t deny himself, this sensation was unreal. He'd felt pleasure before, but never felt this kind of desire for someone else’s satisfaction, yet he was also controlled by his own climax, thrusting deeper inside of your gasping figure. You were beautiful, so pure and vulnerable that every thrust was fire between your bodies and Draco wanted all of it. Granted, he wanted it quite selfishly. You were getting close, trembling fingers bracing yourself by piercing into his shoulder, the pain only feeling as pleasure as she cursed his name under her breath. He didn't need words to understand your body.

“Me too,” Malfoy panted, his head falling down to yours while he was no longer able to fight the approaching finish. You practically begged for him to let it happen, kissing him hard. It happened almost in unison, the only thing preventing your loud, dramatic finish was the muffle of your kiss as satisfaction and pleasure swarmed through both your bodies. You were both tinted with a soft, shameful shine, only the sound of their hearts rampaging in their rib cages and their lungs screaming for air filled the room, exhausted and proud, Draco gently collapsed into the space beside you. You both remained silent, surprised but intimate as you relaxed with only your shoulders now touching, both bodies breathing heavily while stared at the ceiling.

You couldn’t rationalize thoughts right now but formulated the creeping night falling upon you, unsure about anything that happened from here on. You weren't ready to be Malfoy’s soulmate, but the last few moments with him were definitely an eventful start. You weren't sure about wanting Malfoy, it was a desire that felt impossible to truly ignore, but he was still Draco Malfoy. Draco on the other hand, pleasurably pushed all logical evaluations from his mind, enjoying the comfort of your presence as he caught his breath.

A bloody hufflepuff.

A dastardly Slytherin.

What now?


	2. scared of snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflecting on what had occurred in the solitude of Malfoy's quarters, you knew everything was a mess. You're terrified of the aftermath, this one little mistake has the power to change everything. You don't want things to change, but fighting your fate is quite difficult as is. You cannot deny the effect Draco Malfoy has on you, as much as you want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank those of you that liked this story, as a first time writer for fanfic in this fandom and being rusty at HP in general, just thank you for your support! Please keep leaving kudos, comments, and everything else! I really like reading comments, even if you just want to say hi, it's great to know there are people actually taking time to read my writing. I put more than one nights effort into this chapter, so I really hope you like it! Also, please don't come for me for my betrayal of these characters, I wrote them how I seen fit for the story. I hope I do not terribly upset all the hardcore fans by the mediocre writing, but please let me know in the comments if I do! Remember you are loved, even if it's not my a fictional snack like Draco Malfoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Avoidance was key.

Falling asleep after what had occurred a that night in the solitude of Malfoy's quarters was a mistake. Batting open your long lashes to reveal his pale, messy blonde mop of hair which had now turned to face the wall. You couldn't remember what happened after staring at the ceiling in silence for what felt like years, you must have just crashed through exhaustion. You'd never admit it, knowing it would do nothing but boost his already exaggerated ego, but you'd never slept more peacefully. You were sure he'd be eager to tell Goyle and Crabbe about how he could make you scream, but you forced all of that from your mind.

You were sure your friends were worried, expecting you to rejoin them for super and then losing you when you hadn't return to the room.

Was he ashamed?

The question suddenly flushed your mind as you laid there, still blinking away the sleepy blur to your vision. Had he turn away from you because he was ashamed that he'd done so poorly with bedding someone like you?

You scowled at yourself mentally, how dare you succumb yourself to the standards of someone like Malfoy.

It was a mistake. You had given in to his charm to easily and fighting against a bond such as supposed soulmates was quite difficult. A part of you was shocked, embarrassed but in a way that brought those wretched butterflies back to your stomach.

You carefully pulled the sheets of his bed to cover your bust and began to fumble among the dark to find your clothes in a rush. Don't wake up, you begged mentally. Your soft balance on the tips of your toes led you mostly accurately dressed towards the door, whilst adjusting the believed yellow tie.

You cursed the door hearing it creak with your pull, opening it just enough to slip through before quietly tucking through the small opening. Hustle you idiot, you were now screaming to get back to your room without being caught, knowing the consequences of being out after hours, as well as sneaking from the quarters of a boy. He's not just another boy, though, that same lovey-dovey desire side of you hummed mentally. You ran while tucked into the limited shadows, clinging to the wall as you successfully managed to avoid any persons occupying the silent halls. You were also grateful the other was asleep when you crept into your own room, sighing heavily as soon as you laid against the familiar comfort of your own bed.

What would day bring? You were sure it couldn't be good, a couple of hours had the power to change everything.

It was a loud gasp from your roomie that woke you when the smaller girl was suddenly launching herself into your bed. You wanted to push her over the side of the bed, still trying to wake up completely, but refrained as she squeezed you tightly.

"My golly, y/n," Elle, your petite Hufflepuff bunkmate cheered while squeezing your frame. Impressive for a girl so tiny, you noticed with a soft laugh, blowing her long, oceanic blue curls from your face and patting her shoulder. "You had me frightened all night! I was so worried for you! You have so much explaining to do, but right now, you must be getting ready for class!"

Elle pulled back to assure your safety, obviously concerned about your whereabouts you would have to form some excuse for. You laughed, an apologetic glance towards the other girl whilst pulling yourself out of bed with a yawn.

"Forgive me, Ellie, I apologize for scaring you," you replied, giving her cold hand a gentle squeeze as Elle gasped again, taking you by surprise as well. She reached out immediately, darting her hand towards you and tugging on your tie, dragging you close to her.

"What in the bloody heck is this, y/n?" She accused, finally bringing the emerald tie to your attention with a slight glance at the shiny fabric now clutched in her hand. You kicked yourself with a nervous laugh, blinking down at the tie as if it would change the color. Elle demanded answers, but you both were already running late.

"I misplaced my tie and stumbled upon this one, I thought it was ours," you forced a poor lie from your lips. You definitely appreciated Elle's friendship. You'd known her for so long that you'd trust her with anything, but the lie was just so much easier for now. Elle didn't believe it but released your tie, tucking her top into her skirt once more.

"You are awful at deception, l/n," she groaned, pulling on the sleeves of her robe. You cringed, quickly throwing off the Slytherin tie and burying it in the back of her things. You quickly adjusted your hair with a quick glance at the mirror, flattening the curves of a new outfit. You dug through your belongings once more while Elle eagerly bounced, impatiently waiting as they grew more tardy.

"Do you have an insignia I can borrow, Ellie?" You called from the floor beside your bed, trashing your things in an attempt to find a yellow tie. Elle shook her head with pity.

"I don't. I'm sorry. We've really got to go," Elle sighed in a reply, pulling open the door. You panicked but agreed, getting yourself off the floor and hurrying out after her. You barely noticed the green tie that had slipped out of place during your trashing, now residing in an open space beside the framework of your bed, not hidden in the slightest.

You both hurried through the halls to get to the correct class, slipping in with the last few stragglers and finding your seats quickly. You sent Cedric a polite grin as you and Elle slid into normal space beside him and the Weasley twins. You and Elle both greeted them with a quick 'good morning' while the professor began a quick attendance. You bit your lip and quickly tried to cover the missing tie with your the sides of your rob, sinking deeper into your seat at full notice of Diggory, who happened to grin in amusement.

"Something the matter, y/n?" Cedric asked with nothing but genuine warmth in his tone, catching your attempt to hide yourself in the depths of your spot. You sighed lightly and faked half a smile, nodding your head once.

"Not at all. Just a bit chilly, Ced. Thank you," you thanked him for his concern, feeling a gentle blush flush to the pale in your cheeks.

The simplest things made you so uneasy because at the same moment the door whipped open once more and in walked Draco and Goyle, shortly followed by Crabbe.

Don't look, don't look, please don't look, you had mentally pleaded but your eyes betrayed you. Your gaze had already glued itself to the doorframe when he walked in, head held high and button-shirt bare. So much for keeping it subtle. You glanced down to see your own exact apparel, absent tie and all.

Draco looked unfazed, as if last night was all just your nightmare. Or fantasy. You wanted to hit yourself, perhaps Cedric could conjure and do the honors with a spare automobile.

His head was high, which was not unusual for Malfoy, his own entitlement was just his entire identity. The lack of tie was the only thing out of place.

"Mr. Malfoy," your professor's disappointed voice knocked you back into your seat, realizing you had been staring as Malfoy and the others walked to their seats in the back. "Your lack of insignia will be counted against you." Malfoy snickered and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find your stability again, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to brace yourself.

Please stop thinking about him. You realized it was no use because you could feel him. There wasn't a way to explain it, but you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the feeling of eyes burning into your body was odd. You were now experiencing different waves of confusion, you had stolen one another's ties, probably mainly your fault but nevertheless.

"Miss l/n," the professor called again, hands on their hips with their brows furrowed in disappointment. You jumped in your seat, spacing out disrupted loudly while your eyes widened. "I am disappointed to witness your own lack of insignia. Your house should be as well." 

You bowed your head, earning the gazes from majority of the kids in the class as you accepted her words without disagreement. Representing Hufflepuff was an honor, but this was your mistake to own.

Cedric reached out once the professor had turned towards the books, he set his hand on your arm and you gave him a hopeful smile.

"Don't listen to her," Cedric whispered in your direction, that same genuine grin on his lips. "Even the best cannot perfect perfection." Cedric, a poet ahead of his time and living in the past. You couldn't help but smile at his comfort, setting your hand atop his on her arm.

"Thank you, Cedric," you whispered back, letting his hand fall from yours. You didn't realize the jealousy that had crept onto the pridefully ignorant features of Malfoy from behind you. He watched that moron Cedric touch you and immediately felt a dastardly emissions of envy and memories from the prior evening flood his mind.

Someone like Cedric? He knew the boy was nice, but that was too nice. What was that damn Diggory thinking?

The class had gone by with Draco's sole focus on you and you grew peculiarly normal to the feeling of him watching you. Especially in the small talk that exchanged between Cedric and yourself. When the professor requested the class to retrieve their notes, a paleness crept back over you while you tried to recall the final memories you had with your pad whilst relentlessly searching for it among the others. You panicked, failing to locate it within your tote.

Bloody Malfoy, you cursed violently. Your jaw tightened when you realized the last time you'd seen it was when it had been tucked under his arm as he strolled cockily back to his room.

You couldn't panic or cause a scene on the surface, but would be disciplined if you did not have your insignia and your pad. Why did you have to use the same damn pad in class and to sketch your foolish doodles? It was obvious you were searching eagerly for something as the lesson began, catching the attention from Elle at your side.

"What is it?" she whispered to you, her neat brows tugged into a furrow.

"I'm not sure where my journal has gone," you whispered right back, Elle glancing at the desk in front of you while reaching over.

"This one?" Elle questioned, causing you to straighten up to see that exact notepad now resting atop your other spell books. Your eyes widened and you broke your rule to glance backwards for just a moment. Draco was tinkering with his wand as it twirled around his knuckles, the corner of his lips tugging into half a smirk as his eyes met yours and you spun back around.

Why did he have this effect on you? The flutters in your stomach were back and you battled the red in your cheeks. You gripped the pages of your book while flipping through the colorful pages.

Damn you, Draco Malfoy. On the same worn, sepia parchment of your journal where you'd begun the floral design from last night, his handwriting was bared in a deep sage ink-stain in the corner. 'I want to see you again.'

You pulled your fingernail between your teeth in an anxious fit of nerves, attempting to pay attention to the remainder of the lesson without the burning gaze from Draco. Truthfully, you wanted to see him too. As much as you would deny it.

When the class was finally dismissed, you didn't hesitate to follow the group into the courtyard, meeting up with the infamous trio with warm welcomes. Hermione's wise eye caught your lack of tie and before you could talk yourself out of it, she grinned over at Elle, the two of them exchanging little whispers while you nudged them playfully. You had time to think of a better story, or what you believed to be a better story to escape the truth of your ties whereabouts.

On your way through the beautiful courtyard, commotion in front of you snagged your attention from Hermione and Elle. Your brows furrowed while taking cautious steps forward to get a better angle, shiver piercing down your spine just hearing Malfoy's voice. Your stomach dropped seeing him standing before Ron just a few gants ahead of you, rude remarks you couldn't hear very well falling from his tongue. Harry approached from the side, attempting to keep Ron at bay when Heroine pushed through Cedric and the others to appear at Ron's shoulder.

"Bugger off now, Draco," Hermione scowled, defending her friends while you and the others approached as well. The laughter from the Slytherins watching Draco with a proud, praiseful eye was disgusting, but this was the work of your alleged soulmate. You moved to stand beside Cedric to put yourself into view, begging a single glance of Draco's eyes would be enough to get him to walk away.

"Or what now, all powerful Granger?" Draco now taunted Hermione, whose face had pulled together in especial loathing. "Miss self-righteous? Hm? Afraid poor little Potter can't handle himself? Nothing like the power of the moronic, mudblood trio."

Harry stepped forward this time and you tried to take another step but Cedric's hand from beside you reached out to stop your advance, protectively. He'd been doing so since childhood.

"That is enough, Malfoy," Harry spat to the blonde, causing an uneasy shift in your own stance the moment Draco's smirk grew even wider. Damn, that was sort of hot. You swallowed again, damning yourself.

"Careful there, Potter," Malfoy laughed with the others. "Dementor!" Malfoy shouted, getting Harry to collapse onto his rear out of fear. The Slytherins all erupted in laughter while Malfoy tricked Harry with the same ploy, it was getting old but still carried the same weight to Harry.

You brushed through Cedric's grasp and followed Hermione's step forward to assist Harry back to his feet. Draco's laughter was cut short, realizing you'd been standing there this entire time. He still tried to wear that cocky smile, but it faltered in a moment of shame recognizing your attendance.

"You're such a halfwit, Malfoy!" Hermione called as Harry brushed himself off. You looked at him with just as much distaste while he laughed at Hermione's remark.

"Oh no, my sensitive feelings. You must think of me as some bloody screw of a Hufflepuff to imagine your words actually mean a thing to me. I could have all of you gone with one letter to my father," Draco threatened, raising a brow when you suddenly began to sneer the hateful words of this Malfoy you knew all too well. It was one thing to hate on the trio, but a whole different thing to hate on your house.

"Your blatant cruelty is quite pitiful as it's obviously derived from your precious daddy not loving you enough, Malfoy!" You couldn't even believe you'd dared to say anything, words coming from your lips while the words shot out, catching everyone in surprise as you bore hateful daggers into Draco, who stood wide-eyed, shocked before you. "I would say it's sad, but it's rather pathetic. Even for a miserable Slytherin like yourself, Draco!"

You felt your soul leave your entire body and the emotions twisted on Draco's face. You hit a nerve and he was trying to conceal it. The space between both groups utterly silenced while everyone tried to decipher what had just happened. He looked like he was hiding hurt, as if his rude remarks were suddenly out of his entire body, no longer a shield against others while you pulled it to shreds. You were proud, the others at your side were proud as well, surprised, but just equally thrilled. You still couldn't breathe.

"Oh how hurtful, rather daring for a Hufflepuff. Did I hurt your feelings now, sweetheart? Scared of snakes? Forgive me, if anything was to be pathetic, it would be you and your mushy mudbloods and all you sappy, wretched goons in an embarrassment of a house. Darling, you are not special. Nothing but a stray reject with feelings—" You didn't flinch, or at least, didn't show it. He had moved closer to exaggerate his point, the likeness he had shown you in class was long gone. His face was just a reflection of distaste that burned to your core.

You were still processing his words when his voice was cut off by Cedric fighting to get past the others, and you reacted faster than you give yourself credit for. You held a hand out in front of Cedric to stop his advancement towards Draco, they all knew he was out of line but you hated it especially. You were the fool who fell for those rather intoxicating lips.

"He's not worth it, Diggory," Ron explained from the opposite side of Cedric attempting to help you control the situation. Cedric's face had never been filled with such anger, he wanted to shut Draco up for talking to you like that. Yet, you stopped him and proceeded to place a hand on his arm. You couldn't let Cedric do something he would regret, as much as Malfoy rightfully deserved it.

"Weasley's right, Cedric," you whispered, sending him a hopeful smile to try and calm him down. He looked down at you with pity and you allowed it, usually refusing the sorrow from others. His words definitely hurt. You turned back to where Draco stood, the excitement of arguing now replaced with regret while his taunting smirk had been replaced with a self-disappointed frown. His slightly tender eyes returned but you swore by them, damn you Draco Malfoy. "He's not worth it."

Harry patted your shoulder and you found the feeling return to your body, his hand remaining to lead you aside from Draco. You met his eyes with sincerity and honesty, a hateful glare directed at Draco before walking right past him, sure to let your shoulder knock through him as you walked past. He was in your way. The others followed by him, grinning because he'd faced defeat in their eyes. You were right, he wasn't worth it. He could be charming to you, passionate even, but he was an just a jackass twit truly.

You managed to slip away from the rest of the group with excuses of being ill. You found your way back to your safe spot in the lonely corridor, immediately sinking into the cold comfort of the window sill. How could you be so bloody stupid? An actual fool. You slept with the bad guy and you believed he was honestly the worst of them. He didn't feel compassion and you were utterly mistaken. It hurt. His words had hurt you, and you didn't want to face it honestly, so loathing him in your head made more sense. Solitude was your goal, knees wrapped to your chest while trying to find the strength to relax.

"Y/n," his voice was suddenly jogging closer, echoing gently off the walls till it reached you. You cringed in disgust. His voice was soft, no longer plagued with hatred and teasing. You wanted to vomit, not even looking over as you breathed in deeply while standing up and gathering your stuff to walk away.

"Leave me alone, Draco," you warned softly, still looking past him as he approached. You walked a few feet away to try and keep the distance between you. Draco cursed and began to walk backwards while at your side.

"Talk to me," he demanded, speeding up to stop right in front of you. You still didn't look at him, you stared directly at his shoes, taking note of the scruff-free, neatly polished black loafers he wore.

"I have nothing to say to you," you replied honestly. There was nothing you even wanted to say to him. Draco reached forward to try and lift your chin, but you flinched out of his grasp and attempted once more to walk past him.

"This is foolish, l/n," he started again, moving to cut you off. "I was joking with them, as I was joking with you. Don't be this way," it was like an apology but not in the slightest. He didn't want to apologize, did he even think what he said was wrong? You pondered the thought while spinning on your heels to figure out an alternative way at freedom in the opposite direction.

"Perjurer, your humor is crap! Get out of here, twit. Scurry back to your superlative snakes and leave me alone," you directed him once more, but he followed your steps down the other direction of the hall. You rolled your eyes hearing his footsteps.

"You're being ridiculous," Draco scoffed, following only a couple steps behind. Your hands were automatically balling into fists, nails digging into the skin on your palm.

"Ridiculous? You do nothing but torment the people I care about for no reason, just because Potter is—" he cut your off, running ahead to stop directly in front of you. His eyes were full of even more anger now at the mere mention of the one he despised above everything. You smirked at the anger he displayed.

"Don't mention bloody Potter," Draco warned, throwing his finger towards the air between you. It was all about Harry. It was always just about Harry, Draco was never as bad until he came along.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Scared of a real noble Gryffindor with a scar? Scared what daddy will think of his son, the little disapp—" you were silenced by your own gasp as Draco's temper got the best of him and he grabbed your shoulders and slammed your back into the wall beside you.

"You have no idea what you are talking about! Harry Potter is nothing but a damn, filthy mudblood. Listen to me, y/n," you swallowed, the pain from being slammed into a wall pulled pleasurable memories from last night to flash and you nearly dropped your stance. Draco held your shoulders in a tight grip, keeping you firm against the wall while shouting. His face was flushed with aggression, "don't speak the slightest utter about my father."

You were right. A weakness.

"You are not in control of me, Malfoy. I will do whatever I so please," you sneered right back, daring him forward as he snickered in your face.

"Like Diggory?" Draco implied, causing you to pause and suddenly chew on the inside of your cheek. He backed you into a corner there.

"Leave him out of this," you replied, losing his gaze for a moment. Draco chuckled again, moving his head so you could not lose his glare while the taunting returned in pitiful stabs.

"What? Someone like our dashing charmer Cedric? A true night in shinning armor, if I do say so myself. Perfect Prince Charming," he closed the gap between you, not yet touching your body but unbelievably close. He leaned his head down to your ear and your felt your breath catch in a fit in your throat, "too bad he's not your type."

The words sent involuntary shivers down your spine that seemed to subconsciously arch your back into his body. You bit harder onto the inside of your lip, hands still curled at your side while trying to muffle the sound of your heart racing at the pure reaction he'd set off.

"You're right," you breathed after a moment, his head still caught beside your ear, letting your scent fill his senses. You breathed the words into the curve of his neck, "he is perfect and is actually my type, what had you called it? Mushy mudbloods? Sounds better than fucking miserable snakes."

You watched the hairs on the back of his neck stick up at the feeling of your breath against his skin. You were proud that you could insight the same reaction onto him. Without letting it sink in, you slipped out of his grip and continued walking. You were sure he had given up while you walked away, a small grin fighting at your lips.

You were so close.

Draco had rushed over, his hand on the side of your neck as he pushed you once more into the harsh wall. You were immediately on fire, his fingers gripping the soft angles of your neck with a delicacy but possession, eyes no longer full of hate or tricks. He glanced from your eyes, to your lips, and lastly, his own grip on your neck. You didn't move, nor did you complain. Welcoming the dominating gesture as it excited every nerve that sprouted through your body, his hand tightening around your throat.

"You screamed for this snake last night," Draco sneered. You did, you 100% gave in as you were now losing yourself to again.

Yes, I did, you wanted to agree with complete submission. You pleaded for him through a little lean into his touch. It was addictive, the feeling of passion that exploded inside of you was addictive. He was intoxicating. Draco let the words roll off his tongue in a gentle, tempting whisper, his head tucked down towards your own as the hot breath of his words lingered on your bottom lip.

You were pure, and now you just seemed so possessed. It was like that damn potion set off a fever that had one permanent demand that granted you the best feeling in the world, by means entitled to Draco. You nodded, eyes flickering up to meet his, a certain lust that had shared the space between your faces was enough.

You gave it up, everything that had just happened burned to ash and the bloody, disgusting desire you had for Draco Malfoy was indestructible. You pushed into his grip more to kiss his lips, letting the grip on your neck harden as you brought your digits to the buckle of his belt. You yanked the silver buckle forward until his body plastered against your own. His kiss was even better than you'd imagined, one hand on your neck and the snaked against your thigh.

You needed him. You kissed him like he was air and every other necessity that brought you life, Draco's lips moving just as intimately passionate. It was a lust driven desire that drove you impossibly closer together, really drowning you in madness. Draco squeezed your thigh, hand tracing around the hem of your skirt and working its way up towards your ass, causing a gentle noise to escape the proximity of your lips. The parting of your brims was enough for Draco to catch your bottom lip between his teeth.

You felt everything spark wickedly inside, a twist of excitement that had you moaning into his mouth while you drew him right back. Why did he taste so good? You wondered whilst his tongue softy lapped at the soft, wet plump of your lip. You returned the dirty favor by sucking gently on his bottom brim, angling your head in a way that welcomed a tighter grip upon your neck and a deeper shift into your hips. Your hand fled down his chest and over his belt once more, cupping and rubbing your palm over the stiffness he pressed into you. He gritted his teeth loudly, you could tell it was equal teasing as your lips smirked against his own, his hand cupping your asscheek with a tight squeeze. Two could play at his game, in the middle of the hallway during broad daylight, how brilliant.

You broke the kiss, placing your hand on top of his arm and dragging him down the hall, face compromised with a deviant grin. He laughed and ran with you, close enough to rub against your backside as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pressing kisses to your collar and behind your ear whilst you found the boys lavatory. It was empty, just like this corridor always appeared to be at this hour.

Draco glanced around, but was immediately pulled back into your lips as you kissed him hard and hungrily, like the past moment was too unbearably long to not be with him. You pressed him into the side of the sink, his hands gripping the marble top to brace himself firmly, your mind finding the wickedest idea plagued in the back of your mind. You distracted him with another kiss while unbuttoning his shirt, pulling annoyingly at the tiny, stupid buttons. Draco smirked against your lips, caressing either side of your face while he deepened the kiss. You didn't wait, a quick motion to unbuckle and free his belt from his trousers and continuing to lower yourself onto your knees before him.

You started with your hands, already having Draco roll his head back as you pumped your hands back and forth over his dick, then took him deep into your mouth. You didn't need to breathe, letting him in as deep as possible, while running your hand down his chest. Draco groaned and dug one hand into the counter while the other found the back of your hair. You felt him in the back of your throat, now nodding into his dick and taking him back and forth repeatedly, hands and tongue working in a unison of sorts to exhilarate Malfoy's needs. You loved listening to him groan, the feeling of him tugging your hair while he was deep in your throat was fucking crazed. You had begun to excite yourself, a wetness seeping between your thighs.

"Fuck, gorgeous," Draco sighed, looking down at you while you ran your tongue over the length of his dick, smirking up at him while taking it deep inside your mouth again and again. You kept it back there and moved your hands faster, his grip on your hair tightening and pulling harder.

You were beautiful right now, he peered down at you and could memorize the angles of perfection on your features. He was getting close to finishing already, the taste in your mouth exciting your arousal while he groaned huskier and louder, moving both hands to knot and tangle violently in your hair while pushing you deeper. He came down your throat, the salty and sweet, scrumptious serum now coating your mouth whilst slowly pulling him out and swallowing the remainder. You licked his dick clean and all the while, Draco stood in absolute disbelief, stunned allure and utterly impressed as he yanked you quickly to your feet.

He kissed you hard, not minding the distant taste of himself still on your tongue while he changed positions so he could now push you roughly against the rim of the sink. Draco squeezed your ass, lifting you off the tile enough to slam your bottom down atop the sink. You moaned into his mouth while he ripped the buttons from your top and simply stuck his hands under your skirt to tear your panties down to your ankles. You giggled a truly filthy fit against his lips, the eager need began driving both of you mad in lust, tracing your hands through his soft locks.

He broke the kiss and squeezed your breasts, his lips working down your neck and nipping at the sensitive spot on the rim of your throat. His gesture caused you to breathe harder whilst he forced your hips down harder onto the sink. Draco freed your breasts from your bra and gripped them roughly, kissing and sucking at your nipples both tenderly and teasingly, while always flicking or tugging at the other.

You thought that was the fun part, nearly breathless and allowing your head to fall back with the wave of pleasure. Malfoy kept going, throwing up the hem of your skirt as he pushed you down onto the width of the sink, enough to bury his head between your thighs. He propped one of your legs up on the sink and spread the other, planting kisses along the side of your thigh and biting at the innermost surface of your skin, finger brushing ever so gently over your folds. You reached down to fumble your nails through the moppy mess you had raked his hair into, gasping the moment his mouth enclosed on you and arching automatically. Draco sucked and flicked his tongue over your clit, digging as deep and far as he could while you pulled his hair and bit on your finger to muffle the moans.

It wasn't working.

Draco reached up and grabbed your breast with one hand while the other worked at your clit, digging his tongue further inside you only to elicit louder moans you tried to suffocate. He spit into you and you whimpered in complete trembles, throwing your head back against the mirror. You wanted to scream in pleasure, short pulses of orgasm creeping up on you. Draco licked two fingers and pushed them deeply inside you, making you inhale even sharper while your body replied to the pressure by sinking down further. He sucked on your clit while shoving his fingers deep and fast inside of you, causing you to cry out as he watched in pure amusement and arousal.

Your orgasm was approaching, especially when this foolish dope curled his fingers inside you and began to pulse his hand in quickened, harder vibrations that rocked through your body. You couldn't hold on, you arched again and your hips buckled after another mere moment and then you came. It caused slight hicks to reverberate up and through every sense, the muscles extracting and you felt as though your whole soul had left your body.

He was a friggen sex lord, you were sure. So much for a virgin, spoiled brat. Draco stood up met your eyes, letting you watch him suck his fingers clean with a confident grin, eyes flickering the deep satisfaction of once again having you screaming all over again. Maybe you'd take a lesson from Cedric on anger management, wanting nothing more than to slap the cocky look from his features.

"Say what you want," Draco grabbed you by your jaw, whispering in the space right before your face while you nodded quickly, wide and pleading eyes begging for it from the beginning.

"You," the words came out of you without a thought, an instant reply sighed in submission, finally breathing the sentiment he'd been awaiting. Draco snickered, dragging you by his firm hold on your jaw to his lips.

"Anything for you, doll," Draco set his hand on your abdomen to hold you down while he entered you. Your head rolled back in a louder, shaky sigh as you dragged him down with you to kiss him harshly. You solely balance yourself with a strong grip on his shoulder, nails piercing into his skin.

This wasn't sweet, slow or innocent.

He wanted all of you now and you were obeying all of it with privileged pleasure.

Draco thrusted deeper inside of you, kissing your neck while you moaned aloud again, meeting each thrust with your own hips.. As he began speeding up, he suddenly pulled out and flipped you over so you laid across the sink on your stomach. You didn't have time to contemplate the odd angle or the cool singe of the sink, you gripped the faucet and Draco repositioned himself between your legs. He managed to arch your back with a hard, straight-back pull of your long strands. He twisted the knot in his knuckles to pull you at the will of your spine, curving into the sharp angles of the sink.

You were now bent over the length of the sink with your back in a edged angle so that Draco could watch your reflection in the mirror, wanting to see the pleasure he was blessing upon you. He held onto your ass with one hand as the other violently jerked at the majority of the hair he'd tied around his hand. You hadn't even realized you were now gasping through a soft chant, begging him to keep going as your body crept upon overload, each sex nerve now in flames.

He listened to you, managing to press himself deeper inside of you from this position, Draco now placing kisses into your shoulder blade while you clenched tightly onto the sink. His hand snaked under your arm to cup your breast once more as the movements from his hips pelvis, unable to release the tangled fibers of your hair. You didn't feel pain, it was all mind-boggling sensations that fled through your spine.

"Draco," your voice whimpered once more in a barely audible tone, Draco separating you again in order to flip you over. This time, he pulled you against the bare, sweaty skin of his chest, his hands pausing to tuck under your thighs. He gently heaved you up to his abdomen, your body still unresponsive but instinctual as you panted hard, arms wrapping around his neck just as your legs did his abdomen.

You were becoming numb to the overwhelming sense of pleasure, while he pushed you in all the right places towards climax. It was half a moment later that Draco slammed you into a cold wall to what seemed like a popular trend for him today. You moaned, relaxing into his touch as well as the stability of the wall while Draco returned to the solace inside of you, using the wall to help balance you down the wall. He watched your reaction carefully, his hand slamming into the cement beside your head to control himself, the small movement followed by your fingers enclosing around his forearm.

You would say it was just to hold yourself, but you just wanted his every touch to be on your skin. Malfoy groaned again, his opposite hand reaching out to stroke your bottom lip in the midst of the heat. Your response was immediately to suck it in, letting the rough ridges of his digits into the warm, wetness of your mouth. You let it rest between your teeth as you moaned, Draco's own mouth watering at the gesture that made his eyes light up in exhilaration. He kissed your shoulder while you both grew louder, the pace between you quickening as you reached a vigorous level of heat.

"Look at me," Draco demanded, your eyes immediately snapping open to find his own in an instantaneous obedience. You dropped his thumb and he replaced it with his lips, his hand meeting your clit once more as he rubbed his palm rapidly over the sensitive nerve. You cried out louder against his lips, body twitching and pulling this way and that, a sharp reaction that dug himself further into your core. You could feel him near your cervix and that was enough to have your toes curling while your nails pierced through the skin on his back. You tracked your nails up and down the length of his back, not even noticing the lines of garnet which had begun sketching his skin in rich ruby patterns.

You felt Draco cum first, so close and deep inside you that you could practically sense it inside your womb. You didn't even realize yours was right after his own, the ecstasy that he'd created inside you blurring the lines of reality that much as the shakes took over your limbs while he held you still to the wall. You buried your head into his chest to catch your nerves, stability bracing itself while he ran his fingertips gently across your knee. He didn't react fast for your benefit, knowing your sensations were in a clutter while you attempted to calm them down through a necessary moment.

When you came back to your body, you pulled back from Draco's chest to meet his sweaty gaze, both of you covered again in a soft shine. You leaned forward to catch his lips in a tender peck, brushing your fingers across his jaw as you lowered yourself onto your own unstable feet. You faltered for a moment, but he held your bare hips straight, the slight mess up causing both of you to chuckle as you dropped his lips and slowly released his body.

Reality was coming back too soon.

It had been like the previous night, silent and unsure, but still overly-pleased as you slipped through his grasp and quickly began to redress. He followed suit, keeping his eyes to himself and turning just in time for you to see the deep red lines across the back of his pale skin. You gasped aloud and cupped your hand over your mouth, grabbing the side of his shirt and leading him closer to the mirror.

"What is it?" Draco asked in sudden confusion, letting you dragged him backwards in just a skirt and bra. You pulled him free of the shirt he'd nearly gotten on for him to see.

"Me," you tried to fight off the laugh with your hand still clutched over your mouth while his wide eyes caught it through the mirror. A couple of light scratches that had maybe broken the skin a tad, he laughed with a grin forming on his lips.

"A wild little puff," Draco clarified, turning to face you whilst you nudged him, your eyes rolling. You laughed as well, letting your fingertips ease down the small lines, still upset.

"It's not funny!" you stated, concern emerging itself while you shook your head, mentally kicking yourself. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't mean—" Draco pulled his sleeves back on and ruffled the sides to smooth out correctly. He brushed it off and proceeded to comb his hair into place through the mirror past you.

"It's nothing," Draco eased in such a tender foreign tone to him, catching himself immediately. "Just confirms the truth we already knew, love. This snake is the superior sex wizard," you gasped at his statement, whacking him playfully and pulling on your own top, giggling as you buttoned it.

"Careful there, Malfoy, I would wager better for that title. It usually doesn't take me this long to finish, but I guess some are just slower," you didn't fail to taunt him right back, sarcastically. Draco's smirk rose and he immediately dropped what he was doing to stalk towards you.

"Really now, l/n? Doubting my abilities so soon? Your deception is flawed, you've never came so hard in your life and you're very welcome for that, darling," Draco hummed, a soft blush flushing onto already red features while you batted away his outstretched hand.

"And how would you know, Malfoy? You hardly even know me," you replied, keeping a hand outstretched to protect yourself from the stalking lunge Draco made towards you. You laughed, cocking a brow at the realization you were just inciting him. Malfoy was close to narrowing you into a corner.

He clicked his tongue a few times, hands balanced at his sides while trying to find a moment of opportunity. Draco was granted just that when you glanced to where your robe laid on the floor.

"Why play dumb, love? We are already aware I know you much better than anyone else here. I know how to make you scream all day long, courtesy of this snake," Draco snickered. You shoved his shoulders just as he took off into your arms, attacking your sides with his fingers. You squealed and fled helplessly to the floor, trying to kick yourself away while laughing your ass off. You granted yourself the stereotypical hufflepuff instincts, you were beyond soft and ticklish.

"Draco!" you shouted between the fits of laughter while he hovered over you, chuckling himself while watching you squirm. You couldn't help it, trying to pry his attack off your sides while kicking yourself backwards. "Stop it," you cried through the giggles, rocking your body on the floor in an attempt to escape.

Draco chuckled again, admiration spread over the soft toying features on his expression. "Say the magic word," he enticed, waiting for you to fold under him while you gasped, losing your ability to breathe. You went for it, kicking out his knee so he fell atop you, immediately flipping him onto his back while you moved to straddle his hips.

"Now we're talking," Draco whooped, hands placed on the sides of your thighs while you sat calmly upon his lap. You slapped his chest, laughing with a wicked grin placed upon his lips.

"I wonder, Malfoy," you hummed softly, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his shirt. "What makes you give?" Draco raised his brows, laughter erupting from the depths of his throat and giving your thigh a playful squeeze.

"I have no weaknesses, y/n," Draco replied, one hand reaching up to fiddle with the ends of your hair. You traced your fingers up over his neck and then across his shoulder.

"We shall see," and with that, you dove for his armpits and he flinched immediately. Draco tried to shove you off, jerking from under you while pretending to remain calm.

"Hey!" Draco warned, grabbing both of your hands to stop you from uncovering the sensitive spots. You leaned into his hold, smirking happily with a light bob.

"Oh no. Malfoy's ticklish," you cooed proudly, Draco rolling his eyes as he twisted your hands to the side, enough to grant him better access to your revealed hips. You jumped up off his lap, almost falling if not for his firm grip on your hands.

"That is classified information, l/n," Draco snickered, pulling himself to his feet with you, drawing you close with a furious poke at your hips. You squealed again, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold while he laughed at your failed attempt.

"Malfoy!" you cursed, wrapping yourself under his locked arms so that his hands were now held in front of you and he held you snug to his front. You both laughed just as you pushed him back first through the door, his chuckles following your happy laughter whilst you both fled into the hallway.

You spun out of the door, your laughter dying immediately by a figure standing just outside the door. Your mouth went dry instantly and Draco yanked his hands free from yours and both of you jumped a a step away, both of you slain silent as you stared ahead. You glanced down to see the juniper fabric of Malfoy's tie hanging tightly clenched from the figure's white-knuckled fist. You regretted everything in the course of a split second.

"Cedric..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far again! I love you! This chapter was a bit longer, hope you didn't hate it! I also tried to work on the perspective angle to maybe make it more accurate as a reader! Once again, please leave kudos and comments, let me know what you think!


	3. a bad amortentia?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your dearest friend, Cedric Diggory, has discovered your secret. Yours and Malfoys. But, can he really change anything? Even with pure intentions, your beloved companion has secrets of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut in this chapter, i'm sorry :( please let me know if you do like the actual story. Don't hate me, I love you! If you like, good things are to come.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Your throat was dry, your body felt psychically cemented to its current space in the silence of the corridor. Even when you were finally able to tear your own gaze away from the pine colored piece of fabric he now suffocated between a white-knuckled fist, you were still frozen. Utterly and completely paralyzed in your own stance while intensively studying the horrified, pale expression you watched unfold on your dear friend’s features. 

You couldn’t read much beyond the blatant disturbance resting in his once so soft and genuine features. You watched Cedric’s jaw clenched tightly and he looked to swallow the shock as his eyes finally focused on you, the shades of aegean in his eyes hardened into pools of hurt and resentment. You really hadn’t even realized you’d grown stiff from holding your own breath until he finally spoke, clearing the tightness in his throat as he found the words through a distasteful glare that bounced between you and then towards Draco. You were surprised that he had remained silent as well, lingering behind you while shifting uncomfortably on firm feet. 

“You know,” he started, the cruel humor in his tone a facade as he forced the words out. “I visited your dormitory a few moments ago, just to assure you were alright after what occurred in the courtyard. I found this, which I now presume belongs to him.” You winced at the bitterness in his tone as he turned the tie between his fingers, chuckling in a loathsome sound that made your stomach twist in fits of guilt. You watched as Cedric shoved Malfoy’s tie into his shoulder, making the blonde boy behind you curse and stumble back shortly. He spared you one last glance before turning on his heel. 

“Cedric,” you called in a gentle sigh, shaking your head as the feeling in your body came flowing back into your control, feet finally responding to your need to follow after him. You were stopped by a hand gripping your palm, eyes furrowing as you turned back to see Malfoy clinging to your hand. 

“Let him go,” Malfoy said, a careless tone met in the shrug of his shoulders. You looked at him with a firm no motion with a swift twist of your head, eyeing him in a skeptical daze while freeing your hand. 

“He’s my friend, Draco,” you explained, with another glance back towards Cedric still storming off down the hall. “Leave,” you warned, without another moment of hesitation, fleeing through the hallway after him. You called out to him again to try and slow his pace, failing as he forced you to hurry in front of him so that you could cut him off. 

“Please, Ced,” you begged, holding your hands up to prevent him from continuing down the corridor. He didn’t look at you, but paused in his tracks, his eyes finding even his shoes more entertaining than you. “Please, let me --” 

“Explain?” Cedric scoffed, his eyes moving to glare at you through a hostile scowl. “Joking, are you not? Y/n, how could you be so foolish? You deserve --” You’re pity-party was suddenly interrupted by the ignorant chime of Draco as he fell into step beside you. 

“Better than Draco Malfoy? Please, Diggory, you’re planting lies in her head,” Draco hummed cockily, a smirk playing on his lips while you glared up at him, pure betrayal coursing through you. How dare he? You asked him to do one thing. You watched the expression from Cedric burn as he moved his eyes from you to Draco. “Oh,” Draco expressed in a clearly sarcastic tone, the reality finally hitting Draco as his face lit up in amusement. “How adorable, Diggory. You actually expected the little princess to fall for you?” 

“Draco, stop!” You pushed his arm, knowing how worse it would be with him here. You just needed to explain. You didn’t want to hurt Cedric, you didn’t want him to find out this way. You needed to fix it before it got worse. You didn’t know how to fix it, or if you could. What could you possibly do to fix something you hardly understand yourself? 

“You have some nerve,” Cedric sneered, straightening up into a firm stance so he now leveled with Draco, who still wore that unbreakable smirk. “You are right, Malfoy. Y/n deserves the world compared to some moron like you.”

You could feel Draco tense up at your side as your eyes widened, slightly surprised Draco still held his ground in the face of tension from being seen with you. You were half expecting him to run for the hills, and you’d rather have that. 

“Harsh, Ced, truly. I’m hurt--” you couldn’t stand it, you shoved Draco aside, grabbing the side of Cedric’s arm to try and pull his focus from Malfoy. 

“Cedric, listen to me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you could feel the change in him getting more aggressive with every snotty comment from Draco. “Don’t listen to him, Cedric. Let me explain, please listen to me.” He finally glanced down at you, the spiteful hardness not faltering while he looked down upon you, aggression turning to disgust. 

“Answer me this, y/n. Can you actually explain this? You snogging Malfoy? Please tell me how you believe that makes any sense. What the hell have you been thinking? Here I believed you had been bright, in reality, you were just another bloody slag all along, huh?” You felt your stomach drop again, your breath hitching as you stared up at Cedric through the hurt in his words, Draco taking another step into the conversation. 

“Hey,” you watched in horror as Draco leaned forward and shoved his palm against Cedric’s shoulder, forcing yourself instantly between the two. “T’was unnecessary. Watch it, Diggory.” Cedric glared right back at him, even the simple amount of eye contact between them was a threat. 

“You want to talk about unnecessary Malfoy? Look in a god forsaken mirror.” Cedric took another step forward, almost crushing you in a pin between Malfoy and himself. This was getting out of hand faster than you could get control of it. “Or what, Draco?” 

“Both of you, stop this, now, you are both acting like children” you declared over both of them, turning to face Draco who bore a solid cold stare with Cedric. Neither of them cowered. 

You shoved Draco backwards, running out of options to get in the way as you forced yourself up on your toes and reached up to grab his face, hands pressed on either side of his face. “Walk away, Draco. Please,” you begged him in a light whisper, his eyes finally meeting yours as they softened for just a moment. You felt his jaw grit tightly under your touch, his cheek leaning into your palms as he swallowed hard and then suddenly ripped away. You turned back to Cedric immediately. 

“Let me speak, please. I know you’re upset, and I am so, so sorry if I’ve hurt you or done wrong by our House name, but you need to know that this was all an accident,” your voice was breaking and there was nothing you could do about it, trying to rationalize while standing under him. Cedric watched you, a blank expression replacing the aggression he’d held with Draco. He wanted to understand, he wanted to know it wasn’t true. Little did you know, Draco was still in earshot as you tried to undermine everything that had just occurred. 

“An accident?” Cedric laughed, folding his arms over his chest while watching you closely. “How? How does one accidentally shag? Especially with a tosser like Draco bloody Malfoy,” Cedric cursed, taking a step towards you, his voice becoming more rigid as you attempted to calm him down. “Out of all people, you let Malfoy into your pants? You know his reputation, y/n. Damn sake, that wretched wanker treated you like absolute shite just a little while ago. Do you not have respect for--” 

“That is enough, Diggory,” Malfoy cut in again, unable to watch the scene unfold from a distance as your face was now flushed with hurt and embarrassment. “It is not like that. You need to mind your own-- Actually, you owe l/n an apology.” You couldn’t believe this imbecile had dared to step back into their conversation in the first place. Cedric laughed at him again as he now stood behind you, your stance still calm enough to stand between them.

“An apology? Fucks sake, Malfoy. You are delusional,” Cedric’s voice rang in even more laughter, his emotions twisting through hurt and turning to anger. 

“Draco, stay out of it, please,” you begged again, a migraine forming from the lack of obedience you were receiving from Malfoy. Draco stepped towards you, eyes still locked firm onto Cedric. 

“No, l/n,” Draco answered, stepping out from behind you. “Cedric’s noble cause is flawed, he is acting as though any of this has anything to do with him. In reality, none of it is his business--”

“False,” Cedric cut him off again, darting his eyes from Draco down at you with a point of his digit towards you. “She is my concern. She does not understand how much of a mistake she has made getting involved with someone like you.” You forced yourself up straighter, pulling at your hair as your hands tugged through your hair. You were growing impatient. 

“Both of you, stop acting as though I am not standing right here,” you called aloud. You hated the unequal division of height between the three of you as you were constantly having to look up and wave to get their attention. “Cedric,” you started, moving so that you could get in the way of the gaze between him and Draco. “Please. I beg of you, let me handle my mistakes. I will take responsibility for them, but they are mine to own--” 

“Humor me, y/n,” he interrupted you, holding a hand up. “The amortentia from class the other day, is that what this is about?” He took your moment of silence and the fumbled gaze from Draco as his whole answer, nodding his head. “Use your intellect for a moment, y/n. The potion could be wrong, just like all of them could be. You’re making rash decisions over nothing,”

“You have no idea what you speak of.” Draco decreed, watching Cedric as his attention now narrowed down to you. Draco knew exactly where he was going and wanted to beat him there. 

“Does any of it make sense to you? This thing you have with Malfoy?” Cedric continued, trying to catch you in a fumble while you considered it. A couple days ago, that was where your mind had been. You didn’t believe it, could there be a chance that it could be false? 

“You’re ridiculously mad, Diggory,” Draco now laughed from behind you, your eyes still suckered into Cedric’s as the words haunted you. “You can’t just assume she’ll take your word for it and make up her mind to be with you out of nowhere.” 

“And what? Being with you is better? You will only hurt her,” Cedric finally broke their gaze to shout over you at Draco, who was now growing impatient. 

“It is where she belongs,” he declared, taking another step up towards him so he now stood against your side. “She’s felt it as I have, it’s not wrong. If anyone should be feeling wrong, it is you. And perhaps you should try feeling the pitiful guilt you are forcing on, y/n. You are the one who loves her, it is not on her if that love is one-sided.”

“Are you expecting me to believe someone like you is actually capable of love?” Cedric laughed, taking a step himself so that he could now exchange equal aggression while trying to escape from your side. “Please, Malfoy, who are you fooling? You could not possibly care for another, serpents like you are void of feelings like love,” Cedric echoed back, causing you to once more push them their separate ways. At this, Draco remained silent. You listened in surprise, a piece of you wanting to know whether or not this was actually a waste of time; could Draco feel love? Is there a chance he would ever love someone like you?

“Enough!” a voice from the opposite side of the hallway called, turning all three of them to jump back to see Hermoine now walking towards them with her hands perched on her hips. 

You breathed a sigh of relief for the first time, seeing a familiar, welcoming face approaching to save you. “I don't know what is going on here, but this is over. I will be escorting y/n back to the Hufflepuff dormitories, and I believe both of you will return to your own as well before we are all in Mcgonagall’s office.” Cedric bowed his head in submission, but Draco immediately grabbed your hand, locking your fingers together without any control of your own. You watched as Cedric glanced down to your fingers, turning his back to walk past Granger and storm further off. 

“Ced!” You called after him quickly, dropping Draco’s hand just as Hermoine stopped you in your tracks. Draco’s hand lingered after yours for a moment, shifting on his feet. 

“It may be best to let him go, no doubt, his head will be much clearer tomorrow. I’m sure you both can speak then,” Hermoine patted your shoulders, a cold, hostile glance over your shoulder to where Draco stood. Draco avoided her eyes. 

“Malfoy,” Hermoine greeted him, a soft bob to her head as he sent the small gesture right back. “I am not sure what has happened here, but I believe we should all turn in for the evening.” Draco took an argumentative step forward and you held up a hand to dismiss it. You picked his tie off the ground where he’d left it when Cedric had pushed it on him. You walked back over to him and simply looped the tie around his collar, sending him a sad smile while you tied the knot. 

“Draco, I’m --” you found your voice in an attempted apology, Draco’s hand reaching up to place it gently atop of your own to stop you. 

“Let me see you tonight,” he asked in less of a question and more of a supposed plan, cocking a brow in her direction. You couldn’t believe him, after all that had just happened with Cedric, he still wanted time. 

You first walked yourself down Cedric’s reality, making sense out of the fact he just wanted sex. A part of you wanted to know whether or not it could be what you wanted. What did you want? You had gone from thinking there was a chance with Cedric, to screwing around with Draco, to hating him once more, to him defending you, and a series of other events along the way. “Mine, late, I’ll leave the door ajar,” Draco answered for you, leaning forward suddenly with his hands cupping your cheek to catch your lips in a soft, but passionate kiss. Hermoine gasped from behind both of you, just as Draco pulled away and sent you a small wink before walking off in the opposite direction. You sunk into your own body, the sound of Hemoine’s surprise stalking the length around you as she came into view. 

“I’m not even sure where to start, truth be told, y/n, but bloody Malfoy?” Hermoine asked, eyes nearly popping out of the young girl’s skull as she linked her arm through your own and started you both through the hall back towards your rightful house. 

“I’m not sure myself, Hermoine,” you whispered in reply, the weight of everything coming crashing down as you threw your head upon her shoulder while walking in unison. You sighed heavily, the debate of whether or not to follow through and meet with Draco bouncing off the back walls of your mind. You had to explain everything to Elle once Hermoine got you back to the dormitories, accepting that you needed to because you were in the need of some serious Elle advice. Not that any of her advice was rather good anyways. Once you reached the Hufflepuff door, you turned towards Hermoine with a soft apology in your eyes, subtly managing to remove your wand from your robe and wave it gently before she could even blink.

“Obliviate,” you whispered in a hushed apology, watching the nearly transparent beam flash into Hermoine’s temple and disappear just under her skin. You quickly tucked your wand back into your robe and then furrowed your brows towards Hermoine. 

“Are you alright, Hermoine?” You asked, crossing your fingers that you’d performed the spell correctly as she examined the surroundings for a moment with knitted brows. Hermoine cleared her throat, distraught in confusion. 

“I believe so…” she answered in a hesitant tone. “W… What happened?” She asked, you breathed a hidden sigh of relief as she tossed her head from side to side, a soft worry nipping at her disposition. 

“I got sick after super, remember? You walked me back to Hufflepuff to assure I got in alright,” you quickly forced the lie out, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for being kind, Hermoine.” She nodded slowly, taking another glance around her surroundings before returning her attention back to you. 

“You’re welcome, y/n,” She replied, sending you a forced smile. “Feel better?” She offered, turning and heading back down the stairs and off to Gryffindor. You watched her go for a moment, disappearing down the staircases as they shuffled this way and that. 

“Forgive me, Hermoine,” you offered to the space around you, taking a long breath while pondering shortly. Did you do it for yourself, or did you do it for Draco? You weren’t sure where Cedric stood currently, if he even knew he discovered your secret, if he’d already spilled to his friends, but you figured wiping the last few minutes from Hermoine would give you some closure. One thing was for sure, you weren’t ready for the questions or gossip, the drama was just something you couldn’t handle while still in an odd place with Draco yourself.

Realizing you were still standing there, you pulled the door opened and you hurried past the common room with a small grin towards those lingering. You pushed yourself through the door to your dormitory, watching Elle as she jumped to her feet seeing you. You simply plopped down onto her bed. 

“I need to tell you something,” you confessed, catching her attention in curiosity while she returned to your side on the bed. So you did, you told her nearly everything, deciding to leave out some of the more scandalous details.

You then laid there in bed for a moment while Elle dwelled on the idea of you and Malfoy. The other girls in your dormitories were in the showers at the time, you knew Elle would have a problem with you costing her bathing time later but now she was invested in your problems now. 

“Soulmates? You’re positive?” Elle asked, rocking on her lap with her legs folded under her in the center of her own bed. You didn’t know whether or not to answer that question. You were uncertain after some of the things Cedric had brought to your attention. How could you not have considered the mistake sooner? You had originally dismissed it, but your first time with him, you thought you couldn’t deny it. What if it was a lie? 

You sat up on your bed, looking over the loose features of your night outfit in debate just as Elle’s eyes widened and she paused rocking. She knew what you wanted from the moment you sat up with that look of harboring a bad plan in your eyes. 

“No,” she denied you immediately, dramatically shoving her arms in a cross over her chest as you pushed your dainty feet into a pair of slippers. “No, no. No. I am serious, y/n. No.”

“Please, Elle,” you pleaded, hoping off your bed to peek your gaze into the hallway outside your dormitory. Elle huffed in a moment of silence. “I need to speak with Cedric, as a friend and housemate. Please, just cover for me for a bit,” you begged, stuffing your hair into the thin hood of your robe while she emerged from her bedside. 

“You plan on seeing Cedric after what has just happened?” She darted out a hand to your forehead, pressing the back of her hand in quick motions across your forehead. “Perhaps you really are ill, you should really consider lying down.” You nudged her with a fake laugh, batting her hand away. She made a sneering noise and then sighed heavily. “Fine.” 

“Thank you, you are the best,” you cheered in victory, giving her a soft squeeze before disappearing out into the corridor. You peaked your head into the first boys dormitory which held only first year boys sleeping in rows. Then the next down the hall, which also granted you no luck at finding Cedric. You continued. 

You wished your feet would carry you softer, every step felt like the loudest, agonizing groan was erupting from the stones below your feet as you stalked through the rooms of the boys dormitory. It was late, after you’d endured the troublesome seed he'd planted in your mind about the authenticity laid in the amortentia. 

Sleeping was the last thing you needed, and even though you trusted Elle with your conflicts and such, you knew Cedric was the best chance you really had at getting answers.  
There were days which you considered befriending more Ravenclaw students, figuring you'd even have better luck with someone like Professor Snape or possibly even Hagrid rather than facing Cedric after what had happened between you two. You wished it had still been daylight, you could have had a chance to sneak away and find Hermoine again somewhere in the library, she was the wise companion who would benefit your indecisive mind at a time like this. However, your options were extremely limited and a part of you was still sympathetically yearning for another moment with Cedric, you knew he still harbored resentment and probably would for a while before he'd actually consider you a friend. 

On the contrary, you certainly believed there were particular instances in which Hufflepuffs had found themselves in unbreakable friendships with Slytherins, you even knew a couple of Slytherins in which you did not completely have negative feelings towards-- but this was Malfoy. No one really liked Malfoy, unless you were under his family name or shared a household. Usually even then, it was hard to be fond of such a bloke. He was hateful, and easy to hate.One of your least favorite qualities of his, among the others like sheer nerve. 

It was strange that you could hardly remember Malfoy beyond his most recent years, you remembered when he was a sarcastic little child strolling the halls as if his father was the bloody King of Hogwarts. You suddenly realized that not much had changed, he was still a little boy playing games. Were you just another one of his cruel games? You imagined him now ranting and bragging in the Slytherin common room to all of his friends about how easy it was to slag just another hufflepuff. Your stomach dropped as you managed to uniquely hurt your own feelings. This year alone, he’d nearly been stomped by a hippogriff after arrogantly upsetting it in an attempt to upstage Potter. 

You found the right room finally, cursing to yourself as you spotted him in the far corner beside the window, of course, he'd managed to be at the farthest bed. You hyped yourself up mentally, shaking out your limbs as you hurried, hovered over while trying to level yourself at the same height as the bed in a sad attempt to camouflage with the beds. You wedged yourself into the small space beside his bed and the wall, now on your rear as you glanced over his sleeping frame to assure no one stirred at the silent commotion, trying to slow your breathing as your eyes fell upon Cedric's peacefully sleeping features. You wished you didn't have to bother him with your problems, you didn't plan out what you were going to say, but above all, you wanted to get to the bottom of everything. You reached out a hand and gently placed it atop his own, giving it a small squeeze to try and wake him. He stirred, but remained asleep. You tried squeezing it a little more, shaking his hand lightly with no luck. 

Malfoy would pinch his nose so that he had to wake up rather than be suffocated, the insensitive thought crossed your mind and you agreed, letting your hand reach out to brush the thin strands of his hair. His eyes twitched, tightening before slowly pulling themselves open to face you. Your eyes widened and you shot a finger to your lips to hush him as he tried to blink you away, jaw tightening when he realized you were actually here. You suddenly missed the soft sleeping version of Cedric as he sat up, tousling his own hair as the blanket around him fell to reveal a bare torso. You tried to avert your eyes but noticed, and appreciated Quidditch so much more at this moment. 

"What are you doing here?" Cedric whispered down towards you, a hardness still in his voice that was hushed to keep the room silent as the others slept. 

"I needed to speak with you, Ced," you whispered right back, a plea visible behind your sad eyes that forced his hand. He exhaled aloud, throwing his legs beside you and with a swift grab of your hand, he led you out of the boys dormitory quickly. Once out, you both remained silent as you left your hand in his as he led you down to the common room, the fire in the firepit still warm. You both fell into the warmth right on the floor, across from one another, Cedric pulling on a sweater he'd swiped on the way out as he sat beside you, eyes framed toward the carpet. 

"You know you are not allowed in the male dormitories; is disregard for the rules and foolish behavior just a side effect from sleeping with Malfoy? Or is he actually wearing off on you?" Cedric asked, finally meeting your eyes as you pulled your knees to your chest, your voices still in soft, shushed tones. 

"I couldn't sleep, and I really must speak with you... about everything," you replied honestly, bowing your head into your knees.

"Was our conversation from earlier that enjoyable? I have nothing to say to you." Cedric mocked you, eyeing you as if you'd never shown one another kindness, as if the last few years sharing a home in Hufflepuff had never existed. 

"I do," you replied, shoving your feet down in a declaration. "I see the way you look at me, I had seen it earlier as well. You are trying to decipher whether or not I am a stranger to you now. You look at me and speak to me as if I am some vermin or pesky insect. You see a friend in me no longer and I can assure you, what you are doing is quite unbearably painful. Cedric, I have not changed," he scoffed after a moment of letting you speak your mind, his gaze breaking from investment to annoyance. 

"You haven't changed? The l/n I had known would never behave in such improper, disgraceful manner. You say you’re still you, but your ghastly behavior suggests otherwise. You are far from the girl I once considered a friend,” Cedric added, throwing a small piece of fuzz into the flames. You nipped at your bottom lip, finding it difficult to not take the things he was saying to heart. 

“Why are you so angry with me, Cedric?” You asked, watching his face closely whilst he toyed with the flames in the firepit. Cedric flashed his glance towards you, before returning to the fire as he lifted a finger to take control of the flames that danced around the wood. He said nothing, and you found it unpleasantly annoying. “You are fast to call me a slag and trash my name for what I’ve done, but you won’t speak to me properly? Does it grant you pleasure, Cedric? Treating me like a damn drab?” Cedric’s jaw stiffened, finger retracting as he tightened a fist. 

“Malfoy? You could have anyone, and you chose that wretched scum of the world?” He didn’t face you, attention still focused strictly on the flames. You looked to your palms in your lap, shaking your head. 

“It wasn’t a choice, Ced,” you answered. “Do you really believe that someone like me would seek out any sort of association with someone like Draco?” Cedric took a moment to consider it and you were pleasantly surprised he found himself actually considering it. “I know who he is,” you added. Cedric snapped with a strict finger that flashed at the firm motion. 

“You’re wrong! You have no idea who he is, what he’s capable of. He is a blimey bloke, nothing more than a cruel boy that fancies getting into your bed,” Cedric cursed, his voice becoming harder while the flames grew hotter from beside you. You hadn’t noticed the warmth growing to heat on your skin. 

“I don’t think that’s all he is,” you admitted in a hushed tone that was regrettably loud enough for him to hear, sinking into your own skin. Cedric finally snapped his head towards you. 

“Rubbish,” he answered, grabbing your arm in enough of a jolt to flash your eyes to his own. “You care for him? You bloody fool, you’ve actually let yourself feel for that miserable git?” He was suddenly speaking faster, his tone growing more aggressive as his grip tightened. He didn’t let you speak. “Don’t you realize this is all because of some silly little amortentia potion? A potion that is very obviously false assuming you are destined for a halfwit asshole like Draco Malfoy?” His grip still grew tighter, the anger taking its place as a tint of deep, arctic blue in the pits of his eyes. 

“Watch your voice, Cedric!” You called to him, placing your hand atop his own in an attempt to loosen his grip. “Don’t you dare think you have any idea what I feel. You want to be angry, Ced. Be angry, but it’s a rather pathetic way to lose a dear friend,” You ripped your arm free, jumping onto your feet in an attempt to rush past him. He grabbed your hand to stop you, on his feet as well just after you. He pulled you to a stop just in front of him, clenching your arm tightly once more. 

“Y/n,” he tried, the anger in his expression dimming to what appeared to be senseless pity and regret. “I’m sorry, I just… I lost my head for a moment,” he sighed, fumbling beneath your gaze. 

“A moment?” You scoffed, trying to tug your hand free once more. Cedric didn’t budge, drawing in a sharp breath as he continued. 

“Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me what you feel. Enlighten me.” You wish you could have, but the truth was, you didn’t know what you felt. Pieces of what you believed were scattered everywhere. Did you feel for Draco Malfoy? Were you simply embarrassed? Was there something that still wanted to be proved wrong? Your mind was in boggles. Your hesitation was his invitation, the look of confusion that casted itself in your eyes was enough.

Without warning, or even a second to breathe, Cedric Diggory kissed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the third chapter, I'm sorry it took so long, I actually wasn't expecting anyone to actually want more. I apologize this chapter has no smut, please leave your thoughts in the comments! What did you think of protective Malfoy? This is just a fraction of what I have planned for him. What do you think? Another chapter? As always, thank you so much for kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. I love hearing from you guys! Much love!


	4. The Serpent's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cedric Diggory had kissed you, you know he might as well be the better, honest suitor, but you're also aware you really don't have much of a choice. You're still expected in Malfoy's quarters by means of his own suggestion, but being out after hours is still forbidden in Hogwarts, the condition of soulmates at no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! Thank you so, so incredibly much for sticking around to read! I really hope you enjoy this most recent chapter, as well as those past and those to come! I love you!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was a moment. 

Cedric’s hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you passionately for just a mere heartbeat, the feeling that spread through your limbs felt as though you’d turned stone. Then, you realized he was kissing you. Your hands pressed to his chest and you shoved him back hard, eyes wide with shock. You couldn’t fathom the reality behind the kiss, was it truly just a figment of your imagination? Yet, here you stood in your own body, feeling the kiss still lingering while you attempted to figure the expression on Cedric’s concerned features. He watched you as you pressed your fingertips to your brims. 

“What was that?” You asked him, careful to watch the space between them as Cedric’s gaze followed you intensely. Cedric’s eyes fell distraughtly to the carpet, clearing his throat while he found the words after another moment of consideration. 

“I needed you to know,” Cedric offered, hesitation pooling in his voice as the dots started connecting in the back of your mind. Something in you knotted together, bracing yourself with a light rub of your temple. 

“Cedric, please do not do this,” you begged, taking another slight step towards the side with a glimpse straggled on the door of the Hufflepuff house. An escape. Cedric ignored you, stepping forward to grasp your hands in his own once more. 

“We’ve got less than a week left before summer unfolds, y/n,” he replied, your breath hitching as he met your eyes with such sentiment. “Tell me you have not felt it this year, tell me I’ve gone mad to be so resentful to Malfoy because he got you. He’s not right for you, but I can be,” Cedric spoke in soft tones quickly, his voice infused of genuine sincerity, eyes eager to search your own for answers. You just stared at him, pressing your lips in a thin line with the innate feeling of wetness creeping into the brink of your eyes. You tried to move back, but his hands kept you still before him.

“Please don’t do this, Ced,” you uttered again, giving your head a soft shake in denial. “It’s not a choice, Diggory. It’s fate,” you tried to clarify for him, but he remained entranced, reaching out to stoke a strand of your hair. You turned out of his touch, pulling your jaw together while ripping your hands free. 

“You are defending him now? That’s outright nonsense,” Cedric swore, his eyes narrowing as the soft kindness seemed to dissolve back into the hard details of his face. You took another step towards the door. 

“You’re being mean, Ced. I can’t do this... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you tried to prevent the cry from escaping, turning from Cedric with a deep breath as you disappeared quickly out the door and down the staircases, gripping the railing tightly as it moved. You couldn’t breathe right. You weren’t thinking, but your body was already leading your feet towards the Slytherin quarters, you paused right outside the portrait, pressing your hand to your lips to muffle the cries. You breathed deeply, in an attempt to gather yourself, fingers quickly wiping your eyes. What was he thinking? 

What would have happened if he told her before? Before the Amortentia… Before Draco, before all of it… Would your answer have been different, honestly? Cedric in these past few hours would have assured your decline, but the kind boy you knew, you would have hopelessly fallen for him in the blink of an eye. 

You whispered the Slytherin password you’d found scribbled in the unfinished pages of your journal from Malfoy to the portrait in the dark corridor. The small candles kept a dim light upon the stone as the portrait slowly groaned open just wide enough for you to squeeze through, then shut behind you. You paused at the sound of voices, immediately recognizing that of Draco’s arrogant chuckle as it bounced off the walls in the common room. You pressed your back into the wall of the narrow passage, watching the flames from a lantern flash in shadows upon the far wall. Then the next voice, a girl you could also identify as the mocking tone to that belonging to Pansy Parkinson. You couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, a quiet conversation notably as it was after hours. 

She was laughing, giggling it sounded like. Then it would muffle, before she hummed in a soft tone that made your stomach twist. You were almost sure that one peek around the corner would confirm your guess; they were currently snogging in the middle of the common room. Everything went cold, your gut told you to get the hell out but you couldn’t move. Inevitably, through the feelings of hurt and betrayal, it was currently the embarrassment that hurt the worst, a knife now digging into your core. 

You couldn’t help but feel this was... justice?

Karma for defending him, considering you might have had feelings for him, all the while, you knew his reputation. You waited until Pansy excused herself for bed, listening to her feet disappear up the steps before proceeding to clear your throat and perch your frame into the doorway. Draco jumped to his feet, smirking rather innocently towards you from the other side of the room. 

“Am I interrupting?” You asked, folding your arms just under your bust, letting the dim light from the candles on the wall reveal his clothes distraught as well. The dagger in your stomach twisted again. 

Could you even really believe your ears? It was always a splendid surprise when you'd learned new things about this world you'd been born into, abilities that tore you away from a muggle world and brought you to Hogwarts. It was a dream, really. Granted, you became more gullible and those closest would always use your cluelessness to their advantage, but there wasn't a doubt in your mind that you would honestly believe a wise-cracking, pissed Hagrid over any empty excuse that dared escape Draco's tongue as he stood before you. 

You grounded yourself to the side of the wall, your inner cheek now tightly clenched between your teeth to prevent the emotional downfall that was currently happening inside. You were simply lost. Right now, you were just trying not to let him recognize your hurt. You'd seen it before, Draco twisted every emotion, it was a sign of weakness in his eyes, so he built a box to lock away his own, chains and all. 

But, that wasn't you, you couldn't deny or hide your feelings, they were written on your skin like the ink-stained pages of a novel. You were easy to read, he could do so even blind. You were aware Draco could see through your hard expression and careless attitude, but you kept your guard. 

What were you expecting, after all? Was this really a surprise? 

"About time," Draco hummed, his innocent act now played carefully, eyes seeming to implore your body. You regretted the hasty decision of small sleepwear, revealing a considerable amount of cleavage which fully had his attention. "I was just beginning to think ol' Diggory had you scared off." He was already stalking towards you, slow gestures that you noticed immediately. You calmly stood your ground, letting the wall support your frame entirely. 

"Please," you scoffed, nails digging into your palms as they clenched at your sides. "You didn't look too worried. Tell me, how is the lovely Miss Parkinson this evening? Up to your standards, Malfoy? Or is it silly, little me that was not to your liking?" You hadn't even planned what you wanted to say to him, letting your aggravation fluster the scowl that consumed your features. You eyed Malfoy, his expression hesitantly changing as he confirmed you had actually caught him. You could have sworn the corners of his lips twitched upwards as he took another step. 

"Careful, darling. It almost sounds like you've got a hint of jealousy on your tongue there," Draco smirked and your jaw clenched tighter, eyes narrowing at the pure nerve this ghastly boy had. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You have been granted the exquisite honor of being slightly more tolerable than Pansy," he chimed, as if the disturbing gesture brought you any pride. You glared at him, the impatience in you growing increasingly more irritating. 

“Jealous? I would never loathe myself as bloody low as to even remotely consider myself envious to that of some lass like damn Pansy Parkinson,” you spat, your tongue barely having a chance to utter each symbol as you forced the words out. You sneered the words, pushing yourself off the wall, feet mindlessly carrying you straight down to level before Draco. “Besides, you’re blimey thick to believe you’re even worth the trouble. Appears your ego is compensating for the tragic size of your brain, huh Draco? Do you often think too highly of yourself? Nonetheless, you shouldn’t concern yourself of Cedric, my dear friend was quite brilliant at making it up to me,” it may have been an obvious lie, but a part of you wanted to retaliate. Even if he didn’t believe it, trying to sell it by dragging the curve of your thumb just over your bottom lip, forcing a red blush to rise in your cheeks. 

Draco went stiff in front of you, just a few feet away now but it appeared to be enough to set him off. His face tightened, lips no longer harboring any expression other than that of despisement, hard hues following your own orbs. Draco’s hands balled to fist at the mere mention, you could practically feel the anger boiling inside of him, the dim fire casting dancing shadows upon his pale features. 

“What are you on about now?” He questioned while gritting his teeth, shifting his jaw with a growing look of hostility, eyes burning daggers through you. “Was your charming lad Diggory correct when he assumed you to be nothing more than just another whore?” You lost it, scoffing as your hand immediately came up palm straight, Draco reacting faster. He caught your wrist the moment it extended towards him, a hard slap across the face intended to encourage your point. He gripped it tightly, challenging a wiggle of his brow while you pulled at your wrist in an attempt to free it from his hold. 

“How dare you, Draco Malfoy? Rotten fucking bastard you are,” you snapped, using your free hand to shove him back. He was getting under your skin and he liked it there, amusement returning to his brims as he stumbled back for a moment, still refusing to release your arm. You hadn’t thought that out very well, the shove causing him to pull you along, even with grounded feet, Malfoy was stronger and you were closer. 

“I have been called worse, y/n,” he smirked once more, taking the opportunity of you just a few feet away to grip his free hand upon your waist. You tried to squirm, but the smallest gesture only brought you pinned tighter to his chest, he proceeded to twist your arm so that it folded behind your back, smirking as you were suddenly bent perfectly against him. Your breath caught in your throat, knots in your stomach growing as you felt his breath against your cheek, you denying him the privilege of facing him, knowing it would only lead to you becoming further upset with him. “I have caught you in a lie, haven’t I?”

“Let me go at once,” you demanded of him, trying to back out of his hold on you with no such luck. “You have no right, Draco! None at all! Damn git! I have been told the rumors, I know your ghastly reputation as well as the next damsel. You are not innocent,” You swore, forgetting to keep your voice down while the Slytherins slept. You remained struggling against his front, jabs this way and that working to free yourself. 

“I never claimed to be innocent, unlike you, my lovely, little puff. So desperate to be perfect,” he cheered, using the back of his hand to gently glide his fingertips down the edge of your cheek. He paused at your jaw, gripping it and with a swift movement, pointing it directly towards him, hold becoming tighter on your chin. You hated the warmth that left its place on your skin, the simple touch that made something in your chest hiccup. 

“I have never tried to be perfect, Malfoy. But at least you have helped me realize the truth— this is wrong,” you stomped his foot, causing him to release his grip with a huff of surprise mixed with a bit of physical pain. You put space between you and Malfoy immediately, sadly knowing the treacherous effects he had on your body if you let him. Draco sent you a smirk, eyes wickedly following your hesitant steps away. “And to think I took it upon myself to obliviate the memories of Hermione Granger, a girl I happen to like and who happens to be much kinder than you could ever possibly be!”

“Do not try and say you did that for me, you did it for yourself and you very much know it. Indeed it is a shame, but at least you’re rather enjoyable in bed. You may call it what you want, but you cannot escape me, l/n. Besides, you obviously can’t get enough of me,” he breathed, interrupting your thoughts while he traced your steps to prevent your retreat. Your nerves were in shambles, anger only he could bring was surfacing and you were losing control. You wanted to hate him. Had you actually taken Hermione’s memories for yourself? You let the question null in the back of your head, surely something else to worry over soon. 

“You’re wrong! I can deny this because it’s not right, this bond between us is nothing more than a mistake!” Your voice was getting louder, feet leading you right back towards him to exaggerate your point, hands landing flat on his chest to shove him backwards. “You expect me to believe that my fate is written here? With you? A wretched blunder by the gods is all. There is nothing I want with you,” you sneered, letting your shoulder collide with his own as you walked through him towards the door. He had a habit of stopping you, a sudden grip on your hand was enough to throw you into the wall, Draco’s hold lingering around your neck as his body pinned you flat to the stone. 

“Nothing you want with me?” He mocked in a silly tone, a hand guiding itself up the length of your bare legs, gently caressing the soft skin on your thigh. “Alright, I can play your game. Say you don’t want me, and maybe I will believe you. Confess, y/n,” he was close, you were suddenly noticing the proximity as his warm breath left his lips and fled against your own. Your mind was there, you agreed with everything he wanted to hear, but your words were gone. You parted your own lips to speak but the hate refused to leave. “I can tell you why, love, you can’t deny me because you want me. You desire me, even when you say you hate me.” Your hands balled into fists while locked at your sides, not listening to any command your sanity gave to push for your freedom. He was right and you loathed him for it. 

“That’s not true,” you whispered, eyes only momentarily greeting the shades of spruce in his eyes that reflected your lust. You were lying through your teeth again. “I do hate you,” he gave your thigh a squeeze and you seemed to melt against the wall, dragging slightly below him. A gasp escaped and that was the welcoming he craved, closing the distance to trap your lips on his own as resentfully as possible. A hateful hunger that had you immediately gripping either side of his face, pulling his lips harder to your own while they moved quickly against one another. You felt him smirking against your lips, but his kiss was like the air in your lungs all so suddenly. You’d forgotten everything, you weren’t even sure of your own name at this moment. You needed him. Was it passion? The desire he trapped you in was unexplainable. 

Your lips moved against his own faster, barely able to keep up as he pressed you tightly to the wall behind you. One hand was tightened against your inner thigh and the other against the base of your throat, your hands moving up the length of his cranium to dissolve into his hair, tugging gently at the bleach strands which only caused him to retaliate. He moved both hands to your thighs, then spread them tightly over your ass, a teasing squeeze that had a sigh of pleasure drawing from your lips to his own. Giving him just enough space between your lips to dart his tongue in, letting it glide against your bottom lip before he fully took your parting brim between his teeth. Him biting your lip made your mind implode with desire, lustful cravings no longer able to be held back by hesitation as your greedy hands found the belt of his trousers. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking, hand sneaking down into the waistband of his briefs while a grin crept onto your own brims. You felt his grip waver, hesitation expressing your blatant challenge while your fingers locked around his already hard dick. Your hand curled around him, gently stroking his length while the hesitation on his lips brought you straight to his jaw, the remote sounds Malfoy was attempting to withhold were just driving you more mad with lust. You wanted him. Draco was stone beneath your touch, the pleasure from your touch had him breathing unsteadily, hands raking over your hips until they locked on tightly. He clenched your hips strongly, the pain was almost equally enjoyable, your teeth nipping at the base of his neck which only made Draco groan. He leaned into your body, almost thrusting his hips into your hand as you moved faster, tongue guiding itself up the length of his neck until you reached his lips. 

You paused just before Draco’s lips, pressing the digit of your free hand to his lips as they parted, expecting to be met with your own. He pushed into your finger to try and get your lips, annoyance in the distance coming through in a deep grunt as your hand rubbed up and down on his dick faster. 

“You are a tease, woman,” he groaned, obviously approaching his own climax as his breathing quickened and you felt his dick becoming more slippery in your palm. His head fell into your shoulder, turning to sink his teeth into your exposed neck. You gasped, it wasn’t painful right away, but it was another sensation that erupted when his teeth pierced into your tender skin. “Fuck,” he sighed to your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to flood down your spine. You involuntarily arched into his body and before you knew it, he was cumming in his pants. He let out a louder groan just before he broke, bracing himself by forcing your hips tighter to the wall. 

You wiggled your hand out of his pants while grinning, Malfoy watching you through the clear exhaustion on his red features, chest heaving. You clicked your tongue, using your body to force space between both of you while you licked the cum from your fingers, his eyes rolling but entranced by yourself. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” you whispered once your hand was clean, the reality of your actions hitting you like a stupefy spell. Once again, you were behaving irrationally and Cedric’s words dawned on you, was it simply spending too much time with Malfoy? He snickered, buttoning his pants while you adjusted your sleep skirt, he whistled shortly. 

“You know what, love, I will let you continue to tell yourself that, but we both know the truth, darling,” he chimed in reply, satisfaction from simply getting what he wanted. You pulled your hands right around you, glaring at him once more. 

“My body is a rebellious delinquent to my mind. I don’t want this but I can’t…” your voice trailed off, the odd notion that you were actually trying to explain your feelings to Malfoy setting in. Draco chuckled, hands slicking his hair back to its neat position. 

“You’re making excuses again,” Draco teased, pulling at the tie around his neck, fingers loosening the silk material until the tie unwound. You shifted on your feet, a sneer already forming on your features. “Honestly, it must be because of my charm now, y/n. Obviously, you can’t seem to get enough of me.” You laughed softly, trying to remember to keep your voice in a soft whisper. 

“I highly disbelieve what’s happening among us is due to your ‘irresistible’ charm, Malfoy. You’re seriously thinking too exceedingly much of yourself, darling,” you mocked his cocky tone, soft feet carrying you to circle him. Your eyes fled up and down his figure, just to add to the amusement, you poked his ear. “You’re just another boy,” you whispered once behind him, folding your arms unto his shoulders to prop yourself up just behind him. You had to press yourself onto your toes to even be close to his ear. 

“I beg your pardon,” he threw his head back, almost crashing it upon your own, a fake surprise in his voice while he tossed the loose tie around you from behind. You leaned your head down onto his shoulder, craning it to the side to still watch his face. 

“Alas,” you whispered to yourself, using your hand to give his head a soft slap as you pushed your body off of him, fingers crossing over the tie while freeing yourself from it and walking around to face him. “This may as well be a bloody curse.” The comment notably struck him, details in his hard, hostile demeanor had returned. A part of you wanted to take it back, but the truth was, you were being honest and you wanted it to hurt. After all, he’d done it first. 

“Quite inconsiderate coming from you, little puff,” he spat, the tone already coming off harsher as it reached you. You tried not to let the guilt change your mind. “One of the many perks of being my favorite, I figure. You should be so appreciative,” he added with the same amount of distaste leaving his tongue. 

“You’re being cruel again, Malfoy,” you expressed, tearing the tie from his hand and straightening it around his neck. Your slow, kind hands folded the two sides across one another, pulling the strips over one another to tie his tie correctly under his collar, making sure you tied it tightly to his throat. He chuckled, a smirk forming at his brims, humorously as he pulled a finger between his shirt and tie to wiggle space in to breathe.

“There is beauty in cruelty, don’t you believe so, love? We cannot all be as perfect as your filthy little mud-blood of a boy toy. A foolish sweetheart, is he, that Cedric?” Your fingers curled automatically, white-knuckles fists forming in your hands as you dropped his tie and stepped away from him. 

“What are you? A god-damn poet, Malfoy? I’m warning you, Draco, leave Cedric out of this,” your tone was no longer teasing or playful, your eyes hardened at the mere mention of Cedric’s name, defensively. Malfoy’s humorous appearance only grew, a wicked grin taking over his lips as he stepped towards you. 

“Is that a threat I hear? Coming from you, little Princess, believe me, I am most astonished,” he laughed in a ghastly tone. “You would be wise to bite your tongue rather than make empty threats to someone like me. Cedric is nothing but an oaf really, a wretched loser pining for the girl he cannot have. For ‘love’ sake, such a joke,” he was messing with you again, and you were losing your temper. Your loyalty to your friends was unquestionable. You brought yourself to his level, the anger taking a clear expression upon your own face. Your jaw clenched tightly, eyes narrowing at the sole amusement Malfoy was taking from his insults. 

“No, you are the joke, Malfoy,” you retorted immediately, arms folding over your chest to help contain your outburst. He challenged you with a quirk of his brow, taunting you. “You view Cedric as a lesser for his ability to feel something other than hate, you’re the one who is mistaken! Not all of us are as empty and hollow as you, feeling something is the reason why he is the better choice. I pity you,” you confessed, scoffing heavily in Draco’s face as your words hit him hard. He kept a hard face solid on his features, eyes swirling with hatred. Your words were truthful, but they hit a nerve, he realized you were able to see through the act. 

“You pity me? That happens to be a real stupid move, y/n. Speaking of stupid, did you even bother wiping the memories from your dear pal Diggory?” You paused, inadvertently pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in a slight shuffle. Your fingers came together in an anxious knit in front of you, Draco’s eyes widened as he questioned you again. “Merlin's beard,” he groaned, rubbing an upset hand over his face all huffy. “You brainless dame, tell me you disposed of Granger’s memories but foolishly left those of your boyfriend.” He guessed accurately, your teeth anxiously chewing on your inner cheek. 

“Malfoy,” you cautioned, brows angrily furrowed together as you took a warning step towards him. Both of you just a few feet away while his face twisted in shame and belligerence. “If I hear you utter so much a syllable referring to Cedric again, I will not hesitate—”

Malfoy interrupted you, foolishly closing the distance as your hand snuck around your own waist, just under the hem of your top and lingering on the waistband of your sleep skirt. “To what, l/n? Do you plan on crying again, princess? Your threats are useless, you don’t have the nerve to actually harm anyone. Perhaps I should pay Diggory a visit of my own, I can fix your mistakes and even—”

It was your turn to cut him off, one hand grabbing at the collar of his shirt to keep him still as the other removed your wand which had been tucked away for safekeeping. You whipped it to the base of Draco’s throat, barely pressing the tip into his skin when he went pale. Wide eyes, shocked with your actions and lips parted in dread. You smirked. “You will not bother Cedric, especially not with your moronic schemes, Draco. Perhaps, you’d fancy bright red hair to bring home to daddy dearest? I’m sure your father will appreciate the artistry of my creation as you both are so truly fond of the Weasley’s,” you hummed in a swell tone. Draco swallowed hard, eyes full of hate and the challenge to bite his tongue as your brow wavered in temptation. You begged him to say something to give you enough nerve to follow through and let him have it, the only embarrassing image that came to mind. It was quite sad, the way others looked down on the loveable Weasleys, but Draco despised everyone. "Or perhaps a humble scar to mirror that of your cherished friend Potter?" You watched the horror spread over his face and you almost laughed, a humorous grin upon your lips as you innocently clicked your tongue against your teeth. You knew you couldn't do it, but it was fun for a moment believing you could. You released his collar with a light shove as he regained his balance, still horrified and attempting to straighten himself out. 

"Control yourself," he advised, Malfoy’s entire figure rigid with resentment. “Your behavior is unacceptable. How dare you, foolish little wench! Don’t you get it? If my father so much as hears a word of any of this, you haven’t reckoned the slightest idea what trouble it would be worth,” Draco scorned, anger boiling up and impossible to hide as his tone became harsher and louder in your face. You didn’t want to cower, but there was something about his expressions now that hurt so much worse. Why were you taking this to heart when he’d been just as cruel moments ago? Possibly because he was practically admitting to being embarrassed of you.

“Your area of concern is flawed, Malfoy. If your father can make any difference in what exists between us, I implore you greatly to involve him,” you wavered, trying to keep your emotions inline while the hurt was clearly visible in your delicate features. Malfoy’s nose scrunched and his lips turned into a nasty frown with a vile glare. 

“You still don’t understand, you dull-witted doll. My father will be at the top of your worries if he learns a minuscule detail of…” His voice trailed off and a malicious chortle broke from your throat as the pain spread deep inside you. 

“Of what, Draco? What is this?” He said nothing, gaze unfocused past you until you took another step forward, demanding an answer. “Draco,” you whispered, reaching out a hand to curl in a gentle caress on his cheek, a genuine gesture that caused him to yank from your touch automatically. 

“Leave it, l/n,” he warned, placing a hand between them to keep the distance. He refused to meet your gaze and you felt something inside you breaking. 

“Be honest to your words, Draco! Do not recoil at the threat of someone possibly giving the slightest damn about you,” you took another step forward, not minding his hand that attempted to keep you away. You grabbed it with your own hand, forcing it to collide upon the left side of your chest. You pressed his hand to your skin, placing your own above it to keep it still above your heart. You could feel your heartbeat strengthen in a faster rhythm just below his palm. He tried to pull away, his eyes finding the ground as you attempted to find him in the dark. 

“You are confusing who I am again, y/n. I will not be reduced to some mere, insignificant, muggle weakling. A fool to feeling,” he snickered, jerking his hand free from your breast as your voice broke, the pride in your stance weakening. It was becoming harder to stay calm. 

“You’re lying to yourself, Malfoy,” you declared, voice breaking as the tears became all too sudden on the brink of your eyes, you were struggling to keep the pools in your eyes from spilling over. Your cheeks were flushed with agony as you stepped towards him, only to shove him back. “Admit you do not care for me. You don’t. You won’t let yourself,” you cried out, watching him stumble back as you placed your hands once more on his chest to throw him backwards. He let you shove him, the hardness in his features faltering as the regret began to surface, guilt and skepticism burrowing in the reluctant grovel in his fallen shoulders. 

“I can’t,” he answered, finally peeling his gaze from the floor to flash momentarily between you. You felt the tears betray you, closing your eyes just as the waterworks cascaded down a gentle flow over your cheeks. Draco actually looked as though he regretted the small truth, remorse and disappointment swirling in a sad complexion as he watched you cry, hating that it was he who’d caused it. He took a step forward, but you immediately shoved him back again. 

“Embarrassment, could that possibly be what this concludes to?” You sobbed out the words, Malfoy’s hands locking around your forearms as you attempted to throw him back again. You struggled to free yourself, violently shaking his hold on your hands. He didn’t admit it right away but you read it clearly on him, ripping your arms free easily with the harbored anger. You pressed your hand to your lips to muffle your cries, swallowing hard while you took a couple more steps backward. “Please don’t do this,” you begged him, shaking your head as Malfoy cleared his throat, the paleness in his features replacing a red tint. 

“I can’t have this, y/n,” he stated, vacant words parting his brims. It felt to be an apology but you were done, a numbness spreading through your veins like fire. “I won't do it. This is nothing more than sex, y/n. That is all I want from you, and that is final.” 

“You are a bloody coward, Draco Malfoy,” you declared, finding the tranquil nerve rise in you to catch your breath. “You will leave me alone, that is the last I expect of you.” You forced a fake polite grin, batting away the tears as you moved to turn your back on him. “Goodbye, Draco.” You couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You knew Draco wouldn’t follow you out into the hall, you barely made it through the portrait door before collapsing onto the staircase. You didn’t know that Draco had called after you, chasing you until he reached the door before he gave up. He couldn’t give you what he knew you wanted. 

Once you’d managed to force the cries down enough to continue down the staircase, you hurried as fast as your feet would take you. You still couldn’t make it, the despair erupting in your core causing you to fall to your bottom upon the stairs while muffling your sobs into your arm. You curled over your knees, leaning into the railing while silently sobbing to yourself. How could you possibly be so stupid? You honestly felt broken, a painful stab flaring through your insides. 

You hadn’t noticed the sound of footsteps approaching through the dark corridor as you cried, fully unaware of anything that was really happening around you as Professor Snape was doing rounds in the Slytherin halls when he found you on the bottom of the staircase. 

“Well, well, Miss l/n, what could you possibly be doing out of bed…?” His voice seemed to trail off, you’d actually physically jumped at the sound of his voice echoing off the walls. You tried to muffle your cries again, flattening your palm to your mouth as you felt the outburst growing, emotions battling the storm inside. You were so angry, heartbroken, disappointed, but you couldn’t be surprised. You couldn’t act like you hadn’t seen this coming. Professor Snape had gotten close enough, the wand held up to produce a dim light revealed your sobbing frame huddled over your knees on the bottom of the staircase. He’d noticed your upset and silently moved to sit on the step beside you, sure to keep space between you while he sat against the wall opposite you. You didn’t want to cry before a professor, especially not someone like Snape who had failed to show mercy or empathy in the past, but you were fully expecting him to scowl you for your actions. 

He remained quiet beside you, letting you cry softly into your hands without a disturbance. It was like this for a few moments, if you were not so upset you would be curious of his own actions.

“If I may, Miss l/n, it appears there is something disturbing you this evening. So much so, it has delivered you from your respectful Hufflepuff household corridors, to my own Slytherin quarters,” Professor Snape’s words reached your grief, causing another silent sob to flee from your lips. His tone was still strict, but it was a question about what had been troubling you. You were surprised he remained here, not immediately holding you accountable and delivering you to Sprout for punishment. 

You forced the cries down, wiping your eyes quickly as the lump in your throat dissolved at your command. “It is nothing, Professor. I apologize sincerely for the disruption I have caused this evening,” your voice was struggling to fight through the sobs, a slight tremble to your tone. Snape sighed, giving his head a slight shake. 

“Please, my evening was purely arid and tedious, an antipode to contrary beliefs, I can appreciate a solemn distraction occasionally. Would you care to enlighten me in your troubles?” Snape proposed, uprising a brow in your direction, causing you to glance back at him through red, teary hues. Your body trembles as you straighten your shoulders, trying to pull yourself together through shaky sighs. You couldn’t reveal the truth about you and Malfoy to get another person, you knew Malfoy looked up to Snape and he happened to be a favored pupil, Malfoy would resent you for confessing. You bit your tongue, as much as you hated Draco for what he’d said, you couldn’t do it. 

“Boys are cowards,” you admitted through a soft cry, pressing your hand over your mouth again to try and prevent another loud sob. The tears wouldn’t stop, you tried so hard to stop them, but your eyes remained leaky, a flood down your cheeks, almost staining your delicate skin. You could have sworn you heard a dry chuckle erupt from the depths of Snape’s deep throat, causing a sad laugh to part from your lips as well. 

“Indeed, dear child,” Professor Snape agreed, a bitter, witty remark continuing. “Most are helpless doofuses in reality, and they shall remain as such for years to come. A lucky few do eventually outgrow their immaturity, but many cannot relinquish their old tendencies of foolishness. However, I am gathering the impression that you are not referring to all boys, but potentially a specific boy? Can I assume that I am correct, Miss l/n?" Your head nodded once and Snape agreed, repeating a chant to keep his wand lit as he glanced hesitantly towards you again. "I doubt I am mistaken when I presume this might entail the involvement of a particular snob? With your amount of grief, I’m sure there is frankly only one candidate that can entitle this much agony. Perchance, a certain dimwitted blonde, a nearly white-haired greaseball-lad?” You couldn’t contain your laughter, the cries mixing with the humor in your tone as you pressed your palms into your eyes again, sinking into the comfort of the railing. 

“I apologize,” you replied shortly, a hushed voice just barely overcome with sobs. “Does it happen to be that obvious? Just another glum, heartbroken little girl thrown away by...?” You asked him, a bitterness meant for Malfoy’s name as it refused to singe from your tongue on the way from your lips. Snape hummed in settlement, a small nod to his head, causing the pit of your stomach to twist in knots. 

“Similar, but not quite,” Professor Snape rendered, you were sure it was just for your own peace of mind. You cleared your throat, crossing your arms over the tops of your knees. 

“That certainly succors my trouble, Professor, thank you,” your sarcasm was clear, hesitation pausing in your statement as you realized you’d just been sarcastic to Professor Snape. You would have been in grave trouble. You forced a distraction rather than allow Snape another moment to gather your witty comments. “If I may, Professor Snape, the Amortentia potion we had brewed in class just a matter of days ago, the belief behind that potion is the revelation to the scent to that of our soulmate? The other who we are supposed destined for?” You asked, the curiosity and uncertainty expressed clearly on your tongue. Professor Snape took a moment, the puzzle completing itself behind his eyes.

“You had stated that your potion had failed, but the truth was,” Snape paused, figuring the true hurt was the bond rather than the boy, “your potion revealed Malfoy, had it now? And you suspect,” he paused again, the hesitation clear as your blurry gaze locked onto the ground, head bowed in disappointment. “You suspect it is wrong, you believe it can’t possibly be real. Am I safe to assume you do not trust in the Amortentia?” Your nails pressed into the bare skin of your knees, an anxious tic that granted your stability. You pitied yourself for being so predictable, so easy to read, it felt like Snape hadn’t really been trying to guess, it was just obvious. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t believe I was so obvious,” you uttered gently, bringing a hand through your hair. 

Snape replies by shaking his head while clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You must cease apologizing for every fallacy, perfection is only expected of you in my classroom, Miss l/n,” you felt a smile rise to your sad features, taking a moment to appreciate the sincerity from Snape. “I am surely not the first to divulge the truth about magic to you, as I am sure I and our other Professors have told you before-- Even the finest and most powerful wizards of our time, cannot perfect magic. There are aspects in which you could master, but perfection in magic is purely a fabrication. And might I add strictly based on what I have witnessed you brew in my own class, you are far from a potions master,” You tried not to be offended, the jab at your skills not necessary, but definitely more anticipated. You nearly laughed at the insult, nodding your head in admission. 

“What you’re saying is that it could be wrong? The potion, I mean?” You asked, craning your head in his direction. Professor Snape nodded partially, his eyes narrowing as he pulled his attention from you. 

“I must congratulate you on your evaluations in Sprout’s Herbology course, Miss l/n,” your brows furrowed in confusion, the sudden change in topic causing your head to snap in his direction. Snape had spaced out, pitied details spinning dull on his face as his eyes focused towards the wand in his hand. “You should know Sprout has been boasting to our colleagues about you and the others-- Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom, you lot are her star pupils, no?” You shrugged a shoulder, sniffling deeply while pondering. You did love Herbology as much as Neville, the pair of you usually bonded over projects and studies from Sprout, you were just easily fascinated by plants and their contribution to the wizarding world. 

“I suppose? I happen to enjoy Sprout’s course heavily, what does that have to do with the Amortentia?” You asked, raising a brow towards Professor Snape in the dim light. 

“You ought to know with your succession in Herbology, you could easily request Professor Sprout to inscribe a pass from her class. With the spare time, you may report to studies which more attention may benefit,” Professor Snape pulled himself from the step onto his feet once more with his wand extended down to you, lighting your path in an attempt to get you onto your feet. You realized what he was was indirectly implying, coming to your own feet moments after him. Studies like potions with Professor Snape, he was offering his help. “Come now, I will assure you return to Hufflepuff quarters safely, no more disturbances henceforth, do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor,” you answered, nodding as your weak feet began to carry you back through familiar halls towards Hufflepuff. Snape led the way with the light from the tip of his wand, still keeping reasonable distance from you. 

“Subsequently, you do recognize the accountability of your actions, and shall not be surprised that I will ensure you are so held responsible for the mistake you made leaving your dormitory this evening as it is against the rules,” Professor Snape warned once they were near, your head falling before him in agreement. “I will have Professor Sprout deduct three points from Hufflepuff for you being out after hours, and you shall report for detention with Professor Hagrid tomorrow as well.” Snape stated, fully intending to carry out your punishment, you figured the time with Hagrid was better than waiting for more drama to unfold. Besides, this was teddy-bear Hagrid, you favored him over most of the other Professors, even before he’d actually been a Professor, back when he was just a gamekeeper, he was still kind and funny. You were disappointed it had cost you house points, but with the end of the year already creeping up, three points was insignificant compared to what Snape could help you discover about this bond with Malfoy. 

“I understand and accept the consequences of my actions,” you forced a grin towards him, a gesture he didn’t frown towards, you guess that was the most you’d possibly get out of Professor Snape, other than him chuckling, which was still unbelievable. “Thank you, Professor,” you added, pushing open the Hufflepuff portrait but pausing for a moment just in the doorway. “Goodnight, Professor Snape,” you wished him well softly, nodding towards him as you tucked yourself into the Hufflepuff common room. 

“Goodnight to you as well, Miss l/n,” Professor Snape waited until you closed the portrait door, disappearing behind the sleeping fat lady, before turning back towards his own quarters down in Slytherin. You dragged yourself through the common room and straight to your own dormitory room, an exhausted yawn parting your lips as you sniffed again, the grief of being alone causing Malfoy’s words to taunt you with every step closer to your bed. Once you were close, you simply squeezed through the door and shut it soundly behind you. The tears were threatening to fall again, Malfoy’s voice tormenting your mind as his voice echoed through the walls in your head. 

You ignored your bed, almost grinning at the pillows lousily stuffed under the blanket that your dear friend had attempted to make look like you. You walked straight past it, straight to the bed where Ellie laid sound in a sprawled mess across the sheets. You tucked yourself into the small bed right beside her, the motion causing her to shift upwards, suddenly jolting awake as if someone had threatened to steal her sweeties. 

“Heavens you’re alright,” she groaned in a whisper, groggy voice parting through a dry throat as she forced the words out, you simply sunk lower into her bed. “What happened, y/n? Are you okay?” Ellie rubbed your shoulder gently, tossing her head to the side while trying to look at you. Your silent sobs slipped through your lips, Elle suddenly throwing her arm around you, gentle shushes as she comforted you. 

“No,” you cried in a quiet murmur, Elle hugging you to her tighter whilst your vision turned blurry with tears again. “No, I’m not okay.” 

When the sun came the next day, you would surely have much to tell her about what had unfolded this night, but for right now, you were not strong enough to stay awake. You granted yourself slumber in the comforting arms of a friend, Malfoy’s voice refusing to leave you even as you drifted off to sleep in the deepest oceans and over the highest clouds, plagued by Draco’s denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! You made it through another chapter, what are your thoughts? I am going to be slowly introducing more canon characters since Prisoner of Azkaban is practically at an end and Goblet of Fire is about to unfold following summer's holiday. I apologize if the timeline didn't make much sense at the beginning, I really didn't anticipate writing more than one chapter and then my Potterhead self just couldn't give up. Especially not when Draco Malfoy never got the redemption he deserved, nor Snape, both very underappreciated characters which breaks ma heart. I love you guys, keep commenting and leaving kudos, let me know what you think!


	5. A Guilty Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Snape has held you responsible for breaking Hogwarts curfew rules, but has also indirectly offered his assistance. When brewed with a master, what will the truth of the Amortentia reveal? Do you really even want to know? Hogwarts is a big castle, but Draco Malfoy is not ready to say goodbye that easily, which makes avoiding him so much harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not at all goodbye, I just really needed to finish this chapter so I can start on my personal favorite, Goblet of Fire. I have a lot more planned, let me know if you wish to keep reading! Thank you again for sticking around for Chapter 5, let me know what you think! Please continue to kudos, comment, bookmark, share, send an owl, etc. I love you! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

The next morning was quite uneventful. 

If you forget to count having to defuse the boiling rage spewing from Elle after you'd woken and she'd eventually forced you to confess what had happened. You tried to stop crying, Elle assuring the other girls were in attendance at breakfast while you refused to get out of bed. Her bed, actually. 

Elle had covered for you once more with some poor excuse when the head girl of Hufflepuff popped in to account for their whereabouts while the others made their way to the grand hall. She made up some lie about your corset, expressing that you were just really feeling ill and needed your rest. Apparently, the head girl had thrown a fit, challenging Elle as to when she acquired her mastery in medicine, instructing that you had to report to Sprout or Madam Pomfrey in order to be properly excused before leaving. 

Elle was almost more upset than you were, not only with Malfoy, but she'd uttered a few unfavorable curses and threatening remarks towards Cedric, even pondering the idea of using an embarrassing charm to put both of them in their place. You convinced her that she would most likely face punishment for any actions and she finally calmed down, not fear but her own morals making you laugh, finally tearing yourself out of bed. 

Elle was practically family, and you had always hated this part-- being able to count the days left on your fingers, you didn't want to say goodbye again, even if it wasn't for more than a month or two for the summer season. However, this was the first time your opinion on holiday changed, twisting into a clear favoritism to leaving faster for the right reasons-- Malfoy and Cedric, even if they were very different reasons to avoid either boy. You were now eager to leave, a vacation of sorts that would lead to your loneliness in a Muggle world, but a bliss balance for the nonsense that had evolved in just a matter of days. 

Your first destination, after convincing Elle you were going to be okay and did not need her to hex the boys who'd been the cause of your grief, happened to be Professor Sprout's office anyways. You hoped she'd disregard your absence for the meal rather than send you to Madam Pomfrey, who was delightful, of course, but unnecessary because she couldn't heal you. All knew there was rarely anything Madam Pompfrey couldn't restore, but a broken heart over a blimey boy was definitely on that list. 

You tried to tell yourself that you really had no reason to be heartbroken, your esteem properly in need of addressing as you'd let yourself fantasize on a love shared with that of Draco Malfoy. 

Draco. 

Malfoy. 

One more time-- Draco. Bloody. Malfoy. 

Based on what? A stupid Amortentia potion and sex? You had lost your mind there, and you'd let yourself get hurt. You tried to take responsibility for it, but you couldn't take all the fault. Did it hurt less to blame yourself, rather than consider Malfoy? 

Professor Sprout was her usual cheerful self, notifying you that she'd actually received a visit from Professor Snape just before your arrival that morning, and she was disheartened to hear about your misconduct. She told you that she did, in fact, remove three points from the household, informing you that it was kind Professor Snape had recommended only three when she herself wished it to be five. 

You felt a mellow feeling in your gut that reminded you of Snape's surprising concern and a sort of kindness he'd shown you that night. You explained your struggles in Potions class and requested a pass for the slim remainder of the study, a motion which she granted without hesitation. Even when she was disappointed with you, she still favored you and the progression she'd witnessed in her class, your work astonished her time and time again. 

Then, she sent you straight to Madam Pompfrey as you had feared. You were easily able to figure it was the puffy eyes and pale features of a restless night spent mainly sobbing, even in your sleep. Had you actually combed your hair this morning before leaving the dormitory? Your uniform was also not neatly worn, rather tossed on as quickly as possible. Notably, quite carelessly as well. 

You spent a good amount of time trying to convince Pompfrey it wasn't an actual illness that was becoming of you, and she insisted on keeping you anyways. At this point, you knew Snape would be upset. You kept him waiting after he gave you vague instructions and failed to mention that Sprout may send you to the infirmary for being upset. Pomfrey led you to an empty bed beside the door and you noticed a second year, Colin, from Gryffindor seated just beside you with an ice pack on his head. 

"Hello Colin," you greeted him, sending him a soft smile. He returned the gesture with a weak grin while you scooted into the comfort of your own cot. "What have you gone and gotten yourself into today, little Gryff?" 

You met Collin at the beginning of this year, knowing he was one of the boys who'd been petrified the year before with the whole chamber incident. Fearful times at Hogwarts, especially because Elle happened to be a half-blood on her father's side. Anyways, you came across Colin one afternoon while he was struggling with the petunia project from Sprout's class, you offered your help bringing life back into the flower and he welcomed you eagerly. You assisted him in correctly using the charms Sprout had given in order to restore beautiful life into the flower. After that, he’d found you a number of times in the Hufflepuff study room and asked for help on similar assignments. You always agreed. 

"Hello y/n!" Colin chimed back, shrugging his small shoulders as he removed the ice pack from his forehead to reveal a slight red bump. "I was tossed off my broom during Hooch’s flying lessons. It was not my fault, that wicked broom was after me from the start." You laughed, pulling your feet across one another and tucking them under you. "And yourself?" You weren't sure how to answer at first, a falter in your fake smile.

"You win. No mad, possessed broom out to get me, just a bit dizzy is all," you forced out a dull excuse, barely finishing your sentence as the doors wiped open catching everyone's attention. You went cold, the pit in your stomach threatening to twist into genuine sickness. Draco had a ghastly looking Pansy hanging from his side, her arm wrapped around his shoulder to support as she groaned heavily. Draco hadn't seen you, maybe you could make a quick escape. You could only identify him from the white hair combed to perfection, but his back faced you. 

"Merlin's beard, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked, helping Pansy onto a spare bed just across from Colin and you. Draco helped get her seated in the bed, Pansy coughing out laughter. 

"I am unwell after some poorly brewed potions, Madam Pomfrey, my stomach, my head, all of it," Pansy cried, pressing a head to her forehead as Draco let out a muffled, humorous laughter under his breath. It was a cover, she appeared to be experiencing a hangover? Poorly brewed potions indeed. Surely, it was the lot of Slytherins that were behind her illness. Draco took a glance around and you immediately bowed your head, begging to be invisible right now as Pansy's voice continued. "Y/n!" she cheered, ratting you out immediately. She still appeared to obviously be feeling the effects of the prior evening as you and Pansy Parkinson had never been friendly. Sure, you had spoken a number of times, and first year, you were partnered together in defense against the dark arts, but you were not friends. 

Especially after last night, you wanted nothing to do with the pair of them. 

Draco's eyes fell upon you, but you looked straight past him to greet Pansy. "Hello Pansy," you replied, half confused with a small wave of your hand. Draco was staring at you again, you hated being under his gaze, it felt as though he was just staring through to your soul. "Feeling alright there?" You asked, titling your head towards the Slytherin girl who laughed. 

"Not at all, my mind is spinning and I think I may be sick," Madam Pomfrey hurried away to find her a bin. Draco wanted to say something. "You don't look well either. What brings you in?" You sent an accusing glare towards Draco, regretting the eye contact as it still made your stomach drop. 

"I'm alright, just a bit dizzy is all," you lied, red returning to your cheeks as the words from last night played on repeat in your mind. Draco didn't buy it either, his brow raising in disbelief but he remained silent. 

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey chimed back in, placing the bin in Pansy's hands as she returned. "Thank you for bringing Miss Parkinson, you are free to return to class."

Draco started to object, nearly failing to pull his gaze from you even after Madam Pomfrey addressed him. "I should really stay to make sure--"

"It is not necessary, Miss Parkinson will return to her classes when she is feeling better. She is in my care now, and you must report for classes," Madam Pomfrey ushered him out, just as Pansy used the bin, the sound of her ill making you and Colin cringe. You exchanged a gross glance, having to withhold laughter before watching as Draco resentfully left, still objectifying as Pomfrey shooed him out. He sent you a last glance you couldn't read, was it regret or expectation? His eyes widened as if he wanted to say something beyond arguing, but you couldn't couldn’t understand it. 

Madam Pomfrey gave Pansy a small vial for her sickness, before returning to the back of the room where another student called for her. Pansy sat up and waved you over. You debated it, knowing you'd have to contain your issues with her and bite your tongue. You slowly headed over, careful to keep your distance as you sat on the opposite bed. 

"That damn Crabbe and Goyle, I tell you," she started, rubbing her head. "They tried to slip me some goofy potion, would you believe those brainless dogs managed to accidentally brew a loopy potion? I sear, last night I was off the walls," you rolled your eyes mentally, nodding as if you were actually paying attention. 

"Jerks it sounds like," you agreed, knowing it was true since they basically worshipped Malfoy. "At least you're better now?" You asked, raising a brow which Pansy laughed at. 

"I can't wait to get this out of my system, those boys will be paying," Pansy exclaimed, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. You had to stop yourself from physically gagging. "Can you believe, I was so out of my mind last night, I even tried snogging Malfoy?" Yes, you could believe that. You had to act surprised, faking a gasp. Pansy nodded and continued. "Thank heavens Malfoy was sane. How mad is that? Draco Malfoy actually had to take care of me, I am so embarrassed. Apparently I tried to even disrobe him, but he refused to do anything. Such a prude, that one." The confusion became written across your face, she wasn't making any sense. You knew what you heard last night, they were snogging. His clothes were messy, they had to be together. 

Unless they weren't. According to a very out-of-it Pansy Parkinson, she was spelled and tried making a move on Malfoy, but he didn't let her. A prude? If only she knew. Did you know? None of this made any sense, was Malfoy innocent? No, he couldn't possibly be. 

"Miss l/n!" Madam Pomfrey called, making you jump off the mattress and spin around to face her as she helped little Colin off the bed. "You too, are free to go. Would you mind escorting Mr. Creevey back to class?" You nodded in agreement, knowing it was just because early years still seemed to get lost. Colin appeared at your side as you turned to say a quick goodbye to Pansy who had her head back in the bin. 

You decided escaping without a parting gesture was best, not needing to witness any of it. Colin got your drift from a small glance, both of you hurrying out of the infirmary as quickly as possible. Colin and you made small talk about the end of the year as you walked him back to Flitwick's class, walking side by side. You tried to stay involved in Colin's conversation, but your mind was still trying to process Pansy's account of events. 

Did Draco actually not have anything to do with Pansy last night? Why hadn't he just said that? Another thing to make your head hurt. You came upon the right classroom and parted from Colin, wishing him a good holiday if you didn't get to see him before the end of the week. 

You hurried yourself to Snape's classroom, tapping your knuckles against the door as you opened it. Professor Snape was alone in the potions room, not even turning to face you as he simply gestured you in. 

"You're late," he stated blandly, finishing his writing upon sheets stacked in front of him. You walked towards the desk, ready to apologize as he held up a hand to silence you. "What are the ingredients of the Amortentia potion?" You felt as though you were unprepared for a quiz, mind barely having time to react or search your brain for the right recipe. 

"Ashwinder egg, rose thorn, pearl dust, powdered moonstone..." your brain seemed to shut off after the first few, your voice dying out as you pondered the depths of your mind for the last ingredient. Professor Snape was still writing, not paying you any attention.

"And?" He asked, waiting for the final ingredient. You knew it, it had to be there in the back of your mind, you'd only brewed the potion a couple days ago. "That list is incomplete." he added, as if you didn't know. Your fingers knitted in front of you, furiously rocking on your feet as you tried to recall that final ingredient. Then it hit you. 

"Peppermint," you sighed finally, causing Professor Snape to finally look up at you. He looked objective. 

"You are aware of the location of my substances. Or do you just plan on standing there and wasting my time?” You tried not to take offense, bowing your head and quickly walking towards the wall where Professor Snape had the potion ingredients sorted on the wall. You ran your hand over the labels, selecting the right ingredients and finding space beside a small cauldron. 

You added the ingredients as the recipe recalled them, Professor Snape up from his desk and critically observing from just the other side. He remained silent because you were following the recipe perfectly. The recipe had been stuck in your head since the first time you brewed it. 

You finished with just a dash of peppermint, taking a moment to debate on adding it, the anxiety of its conclusion still affecting you. 

“What is it you hope to discover? You appear to be troubled again, what is it you want from the Amortentia?” Professor Snape asked whilst the ingredients boiled together, handing you a small vial. You glanced towards your Professor, dipping the glass vial into the cauldron and filling it to the brim with Amortentia. 

“I am not quite positive, Professor,” you explained in a light whisper, the stress quite obvious on your tongue. You inspected the Amortentia from a distance, passing it back to Snape for final judgement. “In all honesty, I am afraid of what will unfold whichever way my destiny has been supposed.” You admitted, your fingers tingling nervously out before you. You were more than anxious now, waiting for Professor Snape’s verdict as he brought it to his own nose. 

What did you want to happen? Would you be happy if you were to be freed from Malfoy? If you could verify it had all just been a mistake from the start? Your life would be so much easier if you could simply turn your back on Malfoy right now, it was possible you could let him go right now. Professor Snape held the vial out to beside him. 

“It is exact. However, you shall know, you do not have to let a potion like the Amortentia dictate your life. You may be free to love who you so chose at your own decision,” Professor Snape presented the opportunity. He could simply pour the Amortentia onto the ground and toss the remainder. “Many wizards and witches live their lives with no regard to the Amortentia, you are under no decree or expectation to abide by it’s will.” You nodded your head, taking a sharp breath while reaching out to take the vial between delicate digits. 

“Thank you, Professor,” you didn’t hesitate, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. You brought the vial slowly to your nose, almost holding your breath before taking a whiff yourself. You nearly lost your footing. 

If anything, it was more pungent and obvious. You could practically feel Draco here, it was that exact. You hadn’t realized the depths of expensive cologne that singed your nostrils, the delectable taste of apples and a spice of peppermint swirling on your tongue. This time, Malfoy’s odor was exact. You felt as if he was here, just in front of you. A flash of him burned through your mind, the memory of his skin against your fingertips setting off alarms in your nerves. You could smell his hair, the awful scent of his hair gel but the softness of his strands reminding your touch. You were taken back to his bed and the restroom, the overwhelming feeling of being with him drowning you where you stood. It awoke every flame inside you all over again. 

You slammed the Amortentia down onto the tabletop, bracing yourself immediately as your senses overloaded with Malfoy’s presence. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as though there had spontaneously become a weight crushing your chest. Professor Snape tried asking if you were alright but the sounds became background noise and you only heard Draco’s voice humming in the back of your mind. 

You were losing your balance, wide eyes peering up at Professor Snape, who was equally worried. “I don’t feel well,” the words trembled from your lips, breathing difficulty impaired. You were panicking. 

“You’re alright, take a seat,” Professor Snape commanded a chair to meet the back of your knees and you collapsed. You still gripped the wooden desktop, holding yourself still while Snape disappeared to his desk for just a moment. He waved his wand over a small chalice and then removed a small beaker from his shelf, and brought it back to you. He dropped a single droplet of the deep liquid into the cup which was full of water. “Drink,” he told you, setting the cup sturdily in your hold. You listened, a shaking hand bringing the cup to your lips. You swallowed as much as you could. It’s taste was rather bland and you hadn’t a clue what he’d added to the water. Your breathing slowed, feeling the air rush back into your lungs, blossoming wide. You took another sip, the beats in your chest becoming slower while Professor Snape removed the small cauldron of Amortentia away from you. It was a calming potion, restoring the balanced rhythm of breath in your lungs and pulse in your veins.

You were on the verge of terrified tears, the numbness that had controlled your senses breaking. “I don’t feel alright. What in heaven's sake is happening to me?” You asked Professor Snape, running a hand through your hair and over your face, which was cold to the touch. You were uneasily pale, the wind knocked out of you as Snape hesitated. 

Then, the door to his classroom swung open. “Snape, I —“ Professor Snape moved to stand in front of you at the sound of the door creaking open, before it had even snapped against the wall. It was Draco’s voice, and you turned away from it, now nearly hidden behind Snape. 

“Now is not a good time, Mr. Malfoy. You may leave at once,” Professor Snape demanded, Draco ignoring him and walking opposite Snape to get a clearer angle of you sitting there. Draco’s eyes went big, full of concern from a distance. He watched you sit there, obviously distraught and looking even more ill than just a time ago. 

“Y/n? You look awful,” you sunk deeper into your seat, tearing your eyes away from him as you downed the remainder of the liquid as Professor Snape tried to interrupt again. He held a hand between the two of you, keeping Draco away. “What is going on here?” He demanded, eyes blinking between you and Professor Snape. 

“This is none of your concern, Malfoy,” Snape snapped, his voice overpowering Draco’s, but the younger boy refusing to back down. You stirred in your seat, standing up onto firm feet. 

“It’s okay,” you coughed the words out, still bowing your head away from Draco, who eagerly pressed for your gaze. He was worried? Was it possible? “I was just going. Thank you for your help, Professor Snape,” you swallowed hard, the tears still held in your eyes and sickness still refrained in your features. 

“No.” Draco objectified, his stern tone catching a flicker of your attention. “Are you well? You look—“ 

“Awful, so you’ve already said. Thank you for that, always a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy,” you tried to pick yourself up, but your body felt purely weak. You sniffed hard, nodding your head. “I’m fine. I’m going.” You took a step past Snape, trying to head in the best direction to keep a large amount of space between the two of you. Draco stepped in front of you, causing you to take a few steps backwards so you remained at Snape’s side. 

“I need to speak with you,” Draco stated, as if not putting it in a question was enough to get you to agree. You closed your eyes, taking another deep breath.

“I would dislike that very much. I have nothing to say to you and I would very much like to leave.” You clarified, avoiding his eyes and rocking on anxious feet. Draco scoffed, a hurtful humor in his tone. 

“You’re being difficult. You must speak—“ his voice was getting more demanding, thankfully interrupted by Professor Snape who took another step forward. 

“Miss l/n owes you nothing, Mr. Malfoy, she is free to leave if she so desires. You will not bother her if that is her choice,” Snape included, standing his ground as Draco seemed to flounder at the direction of his superior. Everyone knew Snape favored Malfoy, which is one of the main reasons why Malfoy held so much respect for him, but having Snape interject with his own wishes made him unreadable. 

“Thank you again for your assistance, Professor. Good day,” you gave Professor Snape a hasty farewell, sending him an appreciative, forced grin before running past Draco and into the hall. 

You were only a few feet from the classroom when his footsteps caught up to you, running fast enough to close the distance. Draco yanked your arm into the nearest broom cupboard, you arguing the entire way. You were shouting at him to let you go, trying to fight against the hold he had, which moved from your arm to your waist. He trapped your back to his front, placing his hand over your mouth to silence you as heavier steps just outside the door came and went. Professor Snape’s no doubt, as Draco had abruptly given you a moment and then sprinted out after you, causing Professor Snape to follow. 

You clawed at Draco’s hand in the dark of the cupboard, the small space having him tight against your backside. It was absolutely outrageous. It was plain mad, the way you could hate him with everything inside of you after he'd done everything possible to deserve it, but you still got undecidedly flustered and bright red with uneasy butterflies occupying your stomach at something as lousy as his touch on your lips. More so, his forceable hold to muffle your argumentative sounds. So romantic. You did hold your breath when Snape passed, still curious as to why he'd been so ...kind? Not only had he given you the time of day to grant your mind clarity regarding the Amortentia, but he also had stood his ground for you when uncomfortably faced with Malfoy. Now wasn't the time to reflect, you wanted to run, but you didn't. 

You waited, watching the shadow underneath the door disappear before Malfoy finally removed his hand from your mouth, his hold still pinning your waist to his front. One arm locked around your hips and the other around the side of your face. 

"You may unhand me now," you argued, trying to keep your voice in a calm whisper. You pushed against his arm around your waist, but he refused to budge. 

"My options were very slim, you didn't leave me much of a choice," Draco justified, the position he'd trapped you in had his lips beside your hair. You could feel the warm caress of his breath flush against your cheek. "You have been rudely avoiding me, little puff. We need to talk." 

"If you've planned to potentially just continue to be a loathsome jerk, this is not something I want to be involved in and it would be wise of you to let me go," you explained, folding your arms across your chest while tugging away from him. Why was it so bloody hard to control your emotions right now? You felt like the storm was swirling inside of you, pain and pleasure fighting within the walls of your brain. Draco relaxed his hold on your waist just enough to hold you firm to the wall of the cupboard, the swift gesture giving him the perfect opportunity to meet your eyes. 

You tried to look away, but it wasn't fast enough. Your chest was already a gaping hole, caving into the safety of the wall as if he'd just pierced a dagger through your ribcage. You didn't know pain like this, the emotional torture that involved being intimate with Draco bloody Malfoy. At first, his hands kept your head trapped by either side of the wall, his body slowly sinking into your own. Your lips unwillingly parted at the sight of him so close, a burning in your cheeks threatening to engulf your entire face in a deep blush. The proximity was an issue, you watched his gaze teeder on your lips, pleasantly distracted as you both took a moment to hold your breath, practically daring the other to make a move. To your complete surprise, Draco glanced back to your eyes, and then his hands left the wall and he leaned back into the wall opposite you. 

Draco set his hand upon the torch resting on the back wall, causing a flame to spark and grant light between them. His features became visible through a dim shadow that danced upon his pale face. "Are you alright? You were in the infirmary earlier this morning, and now with Snape..." he raised a concerned brow from the other side of the cupboard. 

"I am quite swell, Draco. Please do not burden yourself by pretending you give a damn about anyone but yourself, you've reminded me not to be so foolish" you replied, pulling yourself tighter together as if you could dissolve by your own touch. You wanted to keep your breath under control, but your tranquility was challenged. Draco ran a hand across his face, clearing his throat as if he was choking on his words. "Do you have anything of value to say, or am I free to go?" You asked, eyes framed down to your own slippered feet. You felt holding his eyes might upset you too much, either causing you to cry in front of him again, or even cause you to want to hurt him. The last one was a lie though, you knew you could never hurt him, even having difficulty with the real words that left your lips. 

"You are so difficult, little puff," he sighed, watching your features closely. You shifted at this nickname of sorts, a skip in your chest that you immediately wanted to bury. "You should know--" you didn't give him a second to finish his sentence, the realization hitting you in an instance. 

"What happened last night between you and Pansy Parkinson?" You asked blatantly, the questions returning as Pansy's side of the story came back to mind. You thought you knew what you heard, but a part of you wanted to believe Pansy. A part of you wanted him to be innocent. 

"What do you think happened?" Draco asked, a cruel humor still in his tone as he quirked his brows towards you. You narrowed your eyes, the sharpness of your teeth piercing through the inside of your cheek at the motion. 

"Pansy Parkinson claims you were being a prude, but I'd like to think I know you better than that. Is she mental?" You asked, an accusatory hint in your own words, the simple statement causing Draco to fight off a grin. 

"What do you want me to say happened, y/n?" He asked, obviously joking as he tried to toy around the truth. You were losing your patience, but decided to figure it out for yourself. 

"You want me to believe your ghastly reputation when the truth is you're too scared to let people in," Draco's face hardened, humor draining immediately and you almost grinned, knowing you'd hit a nerve. 

"I am not scared of anything," Draco declared, taking a step forward to assert his point. He wasn’t fooling you. Unlike all of his praise-loathing friends, you saw clearly through his disguise. 

"You know what I think? I think I scare you. I think you're so scared of me and all of this, that you are more settled on hurting me rather than letting me go." You explained, holding your ground against the opposite wall. You kept your attention on his proximity, careful not to let him get too close.

"You're mental to believe I could ever be scared of someone like you,” he sneered, and with the flicker of the flame while the torch was lit, you could see a moment of regret. He knew his tone was purposefully hurtful, and the hesitation was acknowledgement. But he didn’t cower. 

"Someone like me? You don't know the first thing about me." You whispered right back, lying through a sad frown. It was true, he knew much about you and your body, but you could ask him anything under the sun about you as a person, and he wouldn’t know. 

"Does lying to yourself make it easier?" He chuckled, a wicked smirk pulling at the lines of his lips. You shrugged your shoulders, forcing a sickened smile upon your own. You hated this game, but knew how to play. 

"I wouldn't know, maybe I could ask you? You seem rather good at it, I mean, it's gotten you this far. Hasn't it?" You taunted right back, tilting your head with a challenging quiver of your neat brows. His nose scrunched in aggravation. 

“Sounds like you’re trying to prove it to yourself, you think you’ve got it all figured out then, haven’t you, little puff? So you tell me,” he waved his arm out in front of him, a welcoming motion as he expected you to spell it out for him. You didn’t give into the gesture, he wanted to drive you closer. He wanted an invitation to invade your presence. 

“How many times must I say it before you get it through your thick skull? You are a coward, Draco Malfoy.” You almost laughed, fingernails digging into the space on your arms. There was something so satisfying about watching his face twist when you called him a coward, the fear and hate in his eyes was granting. Even more so when you’d spent countless hours crying about him just that night. 

“And what does that make you, princess?” He reversed it right back, an accusatory gesture that he fully meant as a distraction.

“This isn’t about me,” you pointed out, justifiably dissembling his attempted distraction. Draco snickered and your fists tightened. 

“Of course it is. Everything is always about you,” you had to stop yourself from convulsing in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, but could imagine telling Elle about this later and literally rolling on the ground. Of course, you’d probably need a couple moments to at least register what was happening. There was a guarantee more tears were to come. 

“That is bloody rich coming from you, daddy’s boy,” you allowed yourself to laugh out the words, genuinely amused as a smile pulled to your lips. Draco heated, a trigger flipping inside of him that had his appearance inflamed with pure hatred. 

“Mention my father again and see what--” His tone was threatening, a dangerous dare truthfully harbored in his teeth while cursing the words out. This time, you took a step forward to cut him off. 

“Please do something! You know what, can I choose for you? Let me go, Malfoy. Stop this nonsense, and let me be, I beg of you,” your tone had changed entirely, the humor from just a moment lost to the plea that entrapped your voice. You weren’t angry with him right now, your words finally sincere as they unlocked the emotions you’d hidden away as soon as the door locked shut behind you and Draco. 

“You keep begging, but the real question, my love, can you actually let go of me?” Draco asked, a tender tone faltering the sneer he’d previously held. He kept to his space, raising a curious brow. You took a moment, lips parted to answer but truth lost to your tongue. 

“No, I can’t. That’s why I’m asking you, Draco. No more jokes, no more games. It’s just us. You and me. Listen to me, please. Let me go, or let me in, this is your last chance,” your tone had fallen into a beg, softness swirling itself with sadness. Draco hesitated, you could see his jaw clenching in unease through his cheeks. 

“You seem mistakenly convinced that it’s that easy, you haven’t the slightest clue of the labyrinthe that could unfold if I listen to your irrationality. It is not that simple, get that into your skin, y/n,” you listened to just another excuse slip out, nodding your head at the answer that alone had granted you. 

“If that is what you will believe, then this is goodbye, Draco. I won’t wait for you, I won’t be your secret if you don’t even have the courage to look at me, and treat me as your equal, you pathetic snake,” you shook your head, the sadness and brokenness clearly seeping through your words while the tears swelled in your eyes. He didn’t bow seeing you upset, he scoffed heavily and even had the audacity to chuckle. 

“My equal, Merlin’s beard, you must be mad. We do not compare at all. You are inferior in my presence, l/n. Do not rank yourself to my respect off of nothing, little puff,” you felt a knife twist inside of you, trying to immediately figure out how to forget he’d said it. You wished to unhear it. The truth. Draco viewed you as just another student, not a friend, not a classmate, just a pest. You were lucky to not be a half-blood, figuring he was relentless with them, but this was just a measure. You were accidentally letting his words sink in, so much so that the hurt forced the tears to fall. You didn’t even feel it run down your cheek, a clear droplet full of so much pain and torment. 

“I pray for the day you are not so insecure of yourself, Draco Malfoy,” you whispered, forcing him a half grin. “For your sake, I really do hope that day is upon you, but I won’t be here when it does eventually come. You can hurt me all you wish, but know that the moment I walk away, I’m not walking away from some lousy cupboard, I will be walking away from you. I will not waste another moment of my life hurting because you are so afraid of yourself, so sorrowful of your pathetic existence. I pity you, Draco Malfoy, but I will not succumb my own life to the way you will yours.” You felt parts of you breaking with every necessary word, watching the warning lights in Draco’s mind erupting like fireworks. You knew he was arguing with the part of him you so childishly believed even existed, the human part which could feel the truth in your words. 

“Are you saying you think I’m sad with myself? Look in a mirror if you’d like to see sad, my love. You are the epitome of a depressing ‘existence’. I fucked you, that is the extent of this, nothing more.” It was a defense mechanism. You took in a sharp breath, pressing your lips into a thin line as your wet eyes batted up at him, nodding your head while another tear escaped. 

“Which makes this so much easier to end. Goodbye, Draco Malfoy,” You didn’t know what you were thinking, closing the gap between you to toss your arms around his neck. You hugged him, not even knowing what remote reason drove your lunatic self to briefly hold him. You felt as though you were breathing in the Amortentia again, his entire frame frozen beneath your hug as if he’d never been embraced. You bowed your head into his shoulder, letting the scent momentarily flood your senses and release the enjoyable sensations they unlocked. Draco’s hands hesitantly brought to your back, the smallest motion of returning embrace imaginable as you let out another muffled cry into his robe. “Take care of yourself, I beg of you,” you whispered just beside his ear, not even sure you were speaking loud enough to even be heard as you placed a hand on the back of his head. 

You set yourself back flat feet, hand dragging itself to cup his cheek as you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t look at you, but his face fell deeper into your touch. You crossed his lips to the other cheek, pressing a soft peck into the other cheek as well. They lingered, his hands still firm on your back as the space between your lips was now minuscule. Could you grant yourself a last pleasure? You brushed your fingertips gently across the cold trace of his jaw, deciding to pull his head down instead. You pressed a last kiss to his forehead, pulling his hands free from your waist and waving your hand to the torch to put it out. He was then in the dark as you peeked out of the cupboard and then disappeared, shutting it behind you.

You weren’t aware of what happened the moment the door shut and Malfoy was left to his own loneliness in the remote darkness of the cupboard. You didn’t get to witness the firsts that had grown at his sides, or when he smashed said fist into the wall in a fit of anger. His knuckles had bloodied and he sunk to the floor of the tiny closet, not even registering the pain as the pain from watching you leave was enough. 

You pressed your palms into your eyes, wiping the tears and grief away while chewing furiously on the inside of your lip while heading for the girls bathroom. Once safely inside, you let yourself succumb to the weight of all your emotions, falling to your knees in the solitary of the abandoned bathroom. 

“Oh, you sound like me,” you sniffled, blinking furiously towards the nearly transparent figure resting just off towards the sink. You laughed through your cries. 

“Hello Myrtle, sorry for the interruption,” every word felt harder to cry out, feeling as though it was useless trying to prevent them from escaping. You didn’t have to hide yourself or pretend to be okay with Moaning Myrtle, you could sob your heart out and she would have no choice but to listen.

You stayed there for awhile, letting Myrtle become annoyed with you before calming down enough to thank her for her company, and then going back to the dormitories. You’d missed dinner again, but hadn’t been hungry to begin with. Fighting with Draco took it out of you, you honestly just wanted to sleep the entire rest of the week away. 

When you got back to Hufflepuff, it was Cedric, and his pal, Zackary, who you’d run into as soon as you walked through the door. Cedric was still resentful, but he noticed your unhappy features and tried to call after you, but you brushed past both of them. You still looked like an absolute mess, walking straight to the dormitory. If anything, Cedric would just remind you that he was right when he warned you Malfoy would only hurt you. 

You found Elle and the other girls inside. Elle was questioning your whereabouts for a moment, then she took in your appearance and crossed the room in a heartbeat. You fell into her arms, silently sobbing for hours until exhaustion finally overpowered the sadness and you were allowed to sleep. 

When the morning came, you had to retell the story to Elle, who simply refused to leave your side for the last week. She would make sure you could avoid him for the last couple of days, assuring you were always with her or the others during the day. 

With Elle running most of your day-to-day routine, it was rather easy to avoid him. You didn’t put in much effort, but Elle did. Elle was honesty a blessing, a guardian angel you didn’t know you needed until Draco Malfoy and that damn Amortentia. 

It was officially the last day and it could not have come fast enough. Regardless of Draco, the rumors of Sirius Black’s capture and disappearance was the school’s newest topic. You didn’t think it was that simple, from Professor Snape’s injury, Professor Lupin’s resignation, and finally the glance that was exchanged whenever students brought up the disappearance around the Gryffindor trio. At the time, your focus had been Draco, but now you were saying goodbye to all of these great people and it hurt that your last moments were spent in vain. You were sad to see Professor Lupin throwing in the towel after one year, actually enjoying his teaching much more than either Quirrell or that joke, Lockhart.

Everyone was in the courtyard, your arm currently looped through Elle’s to keep you near. You were nearly in happy tears from so many sad goodbyes, knowing it wasn’t forever, but for now. The summer was closing in on all of them and a couple months away may be enough to give you some room to breathe. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were probably the hardest to say goodbye to, just because they were full of so much sarcastic cheer that you really just wanted to whack them both upside the head. You were giving Ginny Weasley a small hug when you felt the burning gaze from across the yard. You didn’t freeze or clam up to your surprise, you simply casted him a small wave, keeping your composure and turning away. You were talking to Ginny about writing as soon as you got home when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to face Cedric. 

You waited for him to say something, but he just stared down at his hands until you finally wrapped him in a tight hug like you always had. You gave him a tight squeeze, causing him to laugh and wrap his own arms around your sides, lifting you temporarily from the ground as you squeaked. It wasn’t an apology, but it was a reminder that you wouldn’t give up on this friendship over a mere fight, and of all things to fight over, Draco Malfoy was not important enough to cost you your friendship with Cedric.

On the platform waiting to get on the train back home, you left Elle for just a moment, seeing the back of Professor Snape, who was recovering quite well apparently. You hurried over as the train came into the stop on the platform. 

“Professor Snape!” You called, catching his attention. He turned to face you with his eyes narrowed, you simply smiled, finally appearing just a couple feet in front of him. You let out a deep sigh, hopeful and stressed simultaneously. “Have a good holiday!”

Professor Snape seemed surprised, lips twitching as he nodded his head in reply. “You as well, Miss l/n.” You smiled again, bowing your head as a gentle farewell just when Elle began to call your name. She was already hanging from a train car when you pushed through people to reach her. At first, you shared a cart with Elle and Cedric, which then turned into Elle, Cedric, Zackary, and a couple more boys from Hufflepuff who joined simply to annoy you and Elle while rowdy chatting with Cedric. 

It was a long ride, but you always enjoyed the scenery. You watched life become of the landscapes which just blossomed from a harsh, but bearable winter. It was quite beautiful, the way the change in seasons gave life to all that welcomed it, and endured the hard times long enough. 

You were happy to reunite with your parents, who would no doubt be waiting on the platform the moment the train came to a stop in the station. You were so ready to take this break, barely waiting for the car to stop fully as you and Elle were the first ones off onto the platform, eyes quickly raking the crowd to find familiar faces as your names were called. Your parents became friends the year you got your dormitory assignments, so they stood beside one another, both pairs eagerly cheerful to see both of you. You both rushed towards them, you collided with your mother first, hugging her tightly while your father folded his arms over both of you. It was a very long year, you needed this. 

While your father retrieved the remainder of your belongings, you said the last bit of goodbyes to Elle, both of you in tears as you exchanged tight hugs. You waved towards Cedric and his father who had found your father while gathering your belongings. Everyone knew Mr. Amos Diggory from the Ministry, but you knew them both rather well because your parents and Cedric’s father had been good friends for ages. You started out of the station with a parent on either side of you, your mother holding you close while your father handled the trolly with your bags. 

“Have a good year, darling?” Your mother asked, innocently. You didn’t know how to answer the question, almost laughing as you forced your head to nod. 

“It was fine. Just happy to be home. For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! I'm sorry this chapter is shorter and has no sort of smut or sexy-stuff, but Draco Malfoy is complicated. Obviously, you know that, because you're here when he's obviously very toxic, but anyways. Did you enjoy it? Is it something you would keep reading? Any notes from you, I have so much fun writing, but it's even more fun reading your comments and hearing from you! Fair warning, I am currently stuck in a place between Draco and the Weasley twins, so that might be another direction I take this, let me know what you think...? As always, I love you!!


	6. Summer's Scorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer's holiday is coming to it's conclusion. Surely, a harmless visit to Diagon Alley can do no harm, not to mention the most important Quidditch game of the wizarding world. What could ever go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer, less exciting but introduces more character friendships! Thank you for being so patient, I hope you're not too upset with the lack of excitement! Let me know your thoughts, as always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

The summer came and went faster than you could really process. It was nice, as you’d expected, to take a break from Hogwarts. You’d spent most of your summer enjoying the weather and painting, also spending time with a few muggle friends from the neighborhood. You received dozens of letters from your friends, writing them almost weekly as they did as well. Elle and you wrote daily, even if they were short sentences, it was odd to not share everything with her. 

Less than a month into summer holiday, you received a letter from Cedric, apologizing and taking back what he’d said while upset. You wrote back telling him he was right anyways and it was in the past, but a part of you wouldn’t be able to just forgive and forget. You would always see him differently. This boy you believed could never hate, he’d shown you a side of him that frightened you after learning the truth about Malfoy. 

Hogwarts was still over a month away, but you were currently spending the majority of a rainy afternoon already packing, enjoying the sound of the rain against your window. Then you’d heard the post, but it did not appear to be your family owl. You’d unlatched the window and pushed open the frame just in time to see the tail feathers of a dark beauty as it disappeared into the clouds. You shot your hand towards the letter that fell to keep it in its path to you quickly. You were curious, already getting your fair share of letters for the summer. They had been declining as school approached, but this was no owl you’d seen before, you would have recognized those of your friends. You grasped the lightly damp, thin envelope between your fingers once it was close enough. 

“Who is it from?” Your mother asked, just now walking into your room to scour for spare laundry. You flipped it between your hand and paused, jaw locking in shock and confusion. You snapped yourself back to reality and cleared your throat, tucking it into your nightstand quickly. 

“A note from Cedric, no doubt. Father has not told Mr. Diggory we do not plan to attend the World Cup this year, he must just be writing to try and change my mind,” you found some lousy excuse blinking rapidly while following her out with your own laundry bin. You appreciated the timely distraction of your chores, your throat absolutely dry and thoughts in shambles. 

Draco wrote to you. You kicked yourself for not recognizing the Malfoy family crest in the wax stamp, but seeing your own name in his handwriting, your address? It made you nauseous. 

What could he want? Was it too easy just to burn it? You’d gone the whole summer almost relinquishing the entire memory of what had happened. Other than the dreams. 

Summer had been bittersweet for more than one reason. It was nice to be home, and a glorious relief to not worry about running into Draco Malfoy at every turn, with the exception of closing your eyes. You'd taken up painting, a tedious hobby that would keep you up for hours at a time, just so you didn't have to sleep. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw his. You were being haunted, forced to relive the pleasure and pain he'd caused you night after wretched night. 

You believed summer would be an escape, but he wouldn't leave you alone, so your brilliant plan was to not give him the chance. If you didn’t sleep, your mind wasn’t flooded with the pain you’d endured. You thought you could get away with it, but your body did need sleep more than you wanted to allow. 

You told no one at home, not wanting to disappoint. No one really liked the Malfoys, if you didn’t have to. They had a loathsome reputation when it came to the question of their loyalty. What would your father think? You buried the nightmares and tried to forget, but it stuck with you, just like Draco’s damn letter.

You kept the note locked away in your nightstand for days, repeatedly pacing around it but never giving in. You didn’t want anything to do with him. You gave him his choice, he chose to let you go. What if it was an emergency, what if he needed help? You talked yourself down with every possibility, currently sitting on the floor of your bedroom across from the nightstand. You just stared at the nightstand, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip for hours. But you didn’t fold. 

Meanwhile, at the Malfoy Manor …

Draco spent twice as much time thinking about you. His summer was spent locked away in his room, no longer able to bide his time with the house elf, another thing he held his father responsible for. Not that he would ever admit to missing the little guy, or even dare to question his father about what had actually happened. Draco didn't really speak with his father, he was scowled and punished for every little occasion that was against his father's favor, but they hardly spoke. His mother tried, but it was really no use. Draco was utterly alone. 

In the solidarity of his own grand living quarters in Malfoy Manor, he was able to practice spells to recall the details he's memorized of your face. He delighted himself to your laughter in the silence of his room, which was occasionally being trashed during outbreaks in which his self-loathing lost control. He figured he'd hated himself just as much as he hated bloody Potter right now, but he didn't blame himself. He still tried to hold you accountable for ruining the fun he was having toying with you. If he was to be honest, he knew the truth as far back as your first time.

It was not even after being blessed with the best pleasure he'd ever been granted, it was when you'd fallen asleep on his chest. He had stayed up for hours that night just hypnotized by the sound of you breathing while cradled against him. It wasn't a physical awakening, but watching the tranquility reflected in your sleeping features stirred something awfully unfamiliar inside of the young boy. 

It was a feeling he wanted to squander immediately, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers and resisting the urge to wake you just to see your eyes. In addition to literally everything else he fancied about you, the smallest detail that plagued his thoughts was always your eyes. He became keen, even watching you smile from a distance made his throat dry and palms sweaty. Fuck, even hearing your voice drove him absolutely off the wall mad. And right now, he held a strongly distasteful desperation to have all of it back. 

He used magic to grant his dreams and fantasies about memories of you, only making him more frustrated to wake up back in his room, alone. His trash bin was stacked high with crumbled pages from his journal, all stained with ink that he'd given up on while trying to write to you. He didn't know what to say because he was still lying to himself. He wrote a hundred different things and hadn't the slightest clue which was real. 

He wanted just one more moment, but wouldn't kid himself. He knew that if he would do it again, the only thing he would change would be getting caught by Cedric, that bloke. Draco felt that the moment your friend caught you, he put the idea in your head that you deserved anything but sex, and Draco couldn't have that. He tried putting you in your place, but it obviously didn't have the desired effect. 

For reasons beyond him, he found himself eagerly wanting to return to terms at Hogwarts, he'd even started mentally recording the days. Before dawn one morning of a sleepless, rage and regret filled night, Draco succumbed to sending you a letter. He didn't write anyone, and your letter was definitely filled with mostly scribbles from where he tried to erase the ink of words he'd taken back. When his mother saw him physically for the first time that entire week, she was shocked when he requested the whereabouts of their post owl. He'd have the servants do everything for him his entire life, so the sight of him independently seeking a task was strange. He sent your letter and waited for days by the window, after lying to his mother about who it was for. He received dozens of letters, sure, but he never wrote back or really even cared reading them. He didn’t need to call in any favors for your address, knowing your whereabouts in addition to everything he had learned from snooping into your personal records in Snape’s office a number of times after your first meeting.

You never wrote back, and he figured he deserved that, so he saw it as a win; a good riddance moment that he could ignore while suffocating the truth inside of him. When his father informed them that they were invited to the Quidditch World Cup by Cornelius Fudge himself, he accepted it gracefully, with nearly no desire to actually attend the game. 

That same day, he tasked Draco with attending Diagon Alley with himself for Draco's necessities for the upcoming term, but also because his father had "business" that required attending to in Knockurn's Borgin and Burkes. Draco followed his father along, hating the idea of being surrounded by mudbloods and muggles that were shamefully brought into his world. His father dismissed him once they got to Knockturn Alley, needing his privacy with his consultants, Draco didn't ask questions. He waited for his father in Flourish and Botts, ignoring the herds of other students and immediately making his way to the second floor to just observe. 

For a while, it was just a loathsome watching party, especially when he'd caught sight of the Weasley's. 

Diagon Alley ...

With just a week before returning to Hogwarts, your parents planned a visit to Diagon Alley to retrieve your supplies for this term. As usual, the family tended to travel by floo powder. You were in Diagon Alley in seconds from the fireplace, cleaning your face of ash whilst skipping through the crowds, greeting familiar faces until you and your parents came past Flourish and Blotts, your favorite bookstore. That wasn’t what made you stop. You caught sight of a herd of redheads and your face lit up. Your parents ushered you along and said they would catch up, needing to stop at Gringotts anyways. You didn’t think about it, hurrying to catch up with the Weasleys. 

“Good day, Weasleys!” You cheered once close enough, grabbing the attention of both the twins and Ginny who all cheered back and got in line for a quick embrace. Ginny hugged you first, an excited squeeze that rocked both of you together. 

“Y/n! It’s so great to see you!” Ginny expressed with a polite grin, eyes bright seeing you. “Good holiday?” 

“You as well!” You chimed in a happy reply. You physically paused unintentionally at her simply polite questioning. It was awful, but you lied, not needing to get into any of it while reuniting with friends. “Yeah, alright, yours?” 

“It was swell, thanks,” Ginny laughed, adjusting the cauldron hanging from her arm while leaning closer. “About at my extent of being annoyed with that bloody Quidditch World Cup, they don’t stop talking about it,” she whispered with a groan, causing you to laugh as the twins nudged her. 

“Why would we?” George asked, moving his little sister by her shoulders to reach you. He threw a partial arm around you, Fred appearing at your other side. 

“It’s not everyday that we can enjoy the game,” Fred added with a playful wink down towards you. Your brows knitted together playfully, nudging him right back. 

“Right, not like either of you play, of course,” you commented sarcastically, Ginny nodding in agreement as you both giggled. Fred and George exchanged a glance over you. 

“This is not just any game, y/n,” Fred pointed out, a slight bob in his head as his brother took a greater enthusiasm finishing his sentence. Overly common indeed for the twins. 

“This is the most brilliant World Championship of the decade!” George added, practically shaking your shoulders with excitement. You liked the way they lit up within one another’s company, encouraging the other just as excitedly, especially when talking about something like Quidditch which they’d played since first year. 

“Ireland and Bulgaria!” Fred cheered, his brother matching his hand as it raised across you for a high-five just over your head. You broke their hands apart while joining Ginny in laughter. 

“And man, those Irish surely know how to party,” George gave your hand a squeeze, a large, goofy grin spreading across his face. Fred added a slight holler in agreement beside you, causing you to nudge him playfully while rubbing your ear. 

“No doubt you’ve heard of the legend himself, Viktor Krum?” Fred challenged a brow which you replied with a simple shrug of your shoulders, hissing out a sigh between closed teeth. 

“Hm, not really all that involved in the Quidditch leagues,” You answered truthfully, chuckling even more as the twins faked dramatic gasps in disbelief. 

“Rubbish,” they both groaned, rolling their eyes between them while selling theatrics quite well. You enjoyed the atmosphere surrounding the Weasleys, always such intense entertainment when it came to the boys. 

“We’ll definitely have to change that,” George smirked down at you, clicking his tongue as you elbowed his gut playfully. He faked a wince and you rolled your eyes this time. 

“No doubt, we expect you’ll be joining us and your dear Diggorys?” Fred pondered, neither of them actually doubting it. They were both familiar with your friendship, noting that he practically followed you around most of the time, and the opposite at times. If you were there, there was almost a guarantee Cedric was just a few feet behind. 

“Perhaps,” you chimed, as if trying to be mysterious with the probability of your definite attendance at the World Cup would even matter to the twins. 

“Perfect opportunity then,” George nodded to his brother who returned the gesture, the devious preparation was clear even in the simplest exchange. Your eyes widened, a hesitation in your features as you laughed towards Ginny, raising a slightly worried brow. 

“Should I start panicking now?” You asked their younger sister, who was just amused watching the jokes between them unfold before her. Ginny held up her hands in a simple shrug, both of you giggling with slight head shakes. 

“Not at all,” Fred declared, brushing it off as George made a slight “eh” sound in uncertainty at your sarcastic question. 

“Possibly just a fraction,” Fred offered in negotiation, balancing his hands out in front of him. You pushed the one hand up where it needed to be, George agreeing from your opposite side.

“Potentially a bit,” George conquered mutually, Ginny taking the opportunity to step forward and space the twins out from your sides. 

“More than a bit, George and Fred without Quidditch are still unbelievable to tolerate,” Ginny chuckled, rolling her eyes as she looped her arm through yours to rescue you from the twins. 

“Come along now, dearies!” You heard Mrs. Weasley hum from inside the bookshop, her eyes illuminating as she recognized your displacement among her ginger bunch. “Oh, Miss l/n! How are you, sweetheart? And your parents?”

“Good day, Mrs. Weasley! All well, thanks! They’re just over at Gringotts,” You greeted Mrs. Weasley with just as much politeness, emitting a soft wave from your digits. 

“No matter, you may come along with the lot and they’ll join us inside soon enough,” Mrs. Weasley invited you cheerfully, always a polite woman. You thanked her as she shooed Ron and Ginny inside, waving in the others as well. 

“Come on, the family doesn’t bite,” Fred gave you a quick, formal hug, before disappearing inside the shop as well.

“Speak for yourself,” George called after his brother, mischievously. He turned to you, his hand still resting upon your shoulder. “You feeling alright, y/n?” George asked, inspecting your features with sincerity. He’d caught your hesitation earlier and it sparked his concern with your wellbeing. It was strange to hear George Weasley without a joking twinge to his tone, but you forced the unease down and faked a smile. 

“Never better, Georgie,” you replied softly, nodding your head up towards him. You wanted to believe it, but right now, just really wanted to be with friends. He looked unconvinced and you sighed happily, reaching up to pull him into a close hug. George gathered you in quite close, still skeptical between the embrace before he pulled back to draw your lips into a smile with his fingers. You wacked his fingers away while giggling. 

“You better be. Dark times would be awaiting us if we were even remotely retained from the bright blessing of your lovely presence, darling,” you were blushing like a fool now, his witty and sarcastic tone still striking the giddiness inside you. His words were kind and you could be a sucker for sweet talk, even if it was just mocking. You squeezed his shoulder while laughing as he took your hand, both of you enlightened with delighted laughter. 

George led you through the crowd in the direction of where his mother waved them over towards the front of the shop. You were tucked tightly to his side, the realization he'd still been holding your hand sparked a blush surface to your cheeks. 

For the first time all summer, you acknowledged the yearning absence of that spiteful sensation that spread through your body with just the smallest, most insignificant touch from Malfoy. You hated it. When you were finally reunited with the remainder of his family, you slowly slipped your hand from his own. You laughed with them as the twins argued foolishly, causing Molly Weasley to butt in and threaten to keep both of them from the World Cup. You and Ginny gasped dramatically, nothing but warm-hearted company in the fun presence of the Weasleys. You didn't think he'd really noticed you breaking the hand-holding, whilst you tugged the letter with your list of necessities from your wand pocket. 

You had smiled in the midst of their small talk, patiently waiting in line with just a couple books stacked in your arms, a single glance towards one of the front shelves caught your attention. A small object on one of the top rows. You interrupted George's bickering with Fred while more people swarmed through the doors, asking him to hold your spot for just a moment. 

He accepted, assuring everything was alright and taking your books. You brushed him off, disappearing into the crowd and waving towards the bookshelf. Once there, you huffed about being small and then tried to strategically acquire the book by methods of tippy-toes and small jumps, also not wanting to make a scene. 

(Draco) Other than the annoyant fact they were Weasley born, Draco never had a reason to harbor hatred towards either twin. He would never acknowledge it, but he was remotely fond of their joke-lifestyle. However, today was different. He was fine watching the entire bunch crowd just outside the door of the bookshop, figuring they were just being joined by another irrelevant little witch when another surprised them outside. 

It wasn't until the small Weasley girl threw her arms around the newcomer and spun her around that your familiar features resonated with Malfoy. This would be the first time he'd seen you physically since you'd made your peace with goodbye, if he could believe it was actually you. He saw you in everything, so a couple moments of blinking and you still remaining made his hands clammy. His tight fists around the railing nearly had him slipping. His stomach actually made him feel ill and his mind was immediately fighting off rejoiceful thoughts of you that threatened a grin on his lips. 

God, you looked like you’d become even more beautiful in these past short months. You didn’t write him back. Were you still upset, or did you not receive the letter? He wanted to interrupt your meaningless conversation with those wretched Weasleys, but remained where he stood. 

Familiarity became loathing as the movement of your kind arms around each of the taller boys triggered jealous spite to sting his insides. He tried to tell himself it was just a happy reunion to keep his calm, but the possessive, irrational need to jump down the stairs and yank you away was overpowering. 

Even so, Draco held his ground and watched you enter from the second floor. The rage was tempting itself inside of him, your hand now linked in one of the bloody twins, he didn't know nor care which one, he wanted to break every knuckle in their hand regardless. He calmed once he saw you pull away, a slight, satisfactory pride sinking onto his features. He followed you through the crowd, watching you move with grace until you reached one of the bookshelves and he saw his opening. He pushed off the railing to come to your aid while you struggled poorly with some stupid book perched multiple shelves too high. He admired your ambition shortly, laughing to himself at your demonstration. 

(Reader) When you’d come in, you hadn’t taken a second to look around, distracted by George and the others. If you had, you would have noticed the figure hanging on the railing of the second floor. You would have easily identified the perfectly neat white hair and tall frame, dressed in a dashing black suit tailored to him exactly. You were currently distracted, nothing really mattered other than acquiring that book. 

The door opened and Draco’s opportunity was brutally squandered. He nearly lost all feeling, a quite normal feeling that became of him when he was in his father's company. Draco froze, immediately regretting it when he saw his father catch sight of your struggles, he wanted to sprint faster than his father to reach you first, but his feet didn't move.

People had been flooding in and out since you came in, so hearing the bell on the door chime was not a distraction. It didn't catch your attention, you hardly even noticed the crowd inside die down seeing an unfamiliar, odd figure now occupying space inside the little bookshop. Your focus was still on trying to reach the small book, oblivious to the fact you'd actually managed to attract the attention of the figure dressed in black who parted the crowds by mere presence and whispers. 

Draco kicked himself into action the moment Lucius appeared at your side, simply reaching a black, gloved hand out over your head to remove the book from the higher shelf before you fell tragically and embarrassed yourself further. You didn't have a moment to react, catching sight of loose laces on your sneaker as Lucius Malfoy flipped the small book over in his hand, judgmentally skeptical before handing it down to you. 

"Thank you, sir," you bowed your head, eagerly turning the small book within your own fingers, letting the pages unfold within your hands. You didn't get a good look, attention completely focused on that of the small book. The stranger scoffed as you ran your fingers over the worn pages, an antique really. A memento from your childhood which you held so sincerely. 

"Peter Pan? If I may, a rather foolish and childish selection," you listened to the stranger snicker, shrugging your shoulders carelessly while rocking peacefully on your feet. You were still running your fingers over the pages and ignoring his glare. Draco was on his way down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly while trying to keep his composure before running to your aid, trying to calm the urge to steal you away from his father. 

"Most absolutely, if I may agree as well," you started, a calmness to your voice. "Very foolish, definitely, but not wrong. The way I see it, it just so happens to be the foolish acts of children which keeps our world from collapsing. The true sanity of our world is insanity in the most delightful ways. Sure, you can argue by rational and logic, but to imagine a realm in which none of the two matter. Confinement would be a treacherous fate worse than death, but a grant away from expectation and responsibility, that would be truly perfect." You hadn't realized you were just spilling the depths of your mind, noting how preachy and absurd you sounded while audibly laughing at yourself when you looked up. Your grin faltered, numbness rushing through your limbs as you noted each red flag with obvious attention now. He was still furrowing his brows while attentively taking in and actually considering your words, to your surprise. 

Everything made sense. He wore an expensive, tailored suit that covered him in black from head to toe, pale skin nearly lifeless and hair as pale as the white pages of your book. But it was the eyes that felt so familiar. Cold, hard, cruel, skeptical, empowering, a specific self-righteousness that could only be direct descent from Draco himself.

To your further surprise, he took to your random oddness. "How... impractically ingenious in the same sense of a mad man, dear child. With that ghastly comprehension of our world, you must be a student of Dumbledore's, no?" You nodded your head in reply, trying not to dissect his words while he outstretched a hand down to you, confirming your worst thought. "Lucius Malfoy, a pleasure, odd one," you hesitated noticeably, the life leaving your own features in absolute horror. 

You couldn't be rude, it wasn't in your nature, but you were honestly terrified. Everyone knew the rumors, the only reason he wasn't rotting in Azkaban was because they were simply that; rumors. Everyone gave Malfoy credit for being able to cover his tracks and go unnoticed, none could hold their accusations of meaning, nor would it even make it to the Ministry before it'd be corrupted. You swallowed hard, a physical pain piercing your throat as you placed your own hand within that of Mr. Malfoy. 

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself flatly, clearing the lump residing in your throat as you clenched the small book tightly to your chest. “How do you do,” it was less of a question, more of a polite phrase to return the gesture. You didn’t want to meet him, you weren’t delighted or pleased. Lucius raised a brow, giving your hand a firm shake, but failing to drop it. 

“L/n?” He asked, finishing your name out for you as the pit in your stomach twisted again. Lucius Malfoy knew your family, you were sure it was just from your father’s work, but it still made you nauseous. You nodded your head. 

“That would be correct,” you confirmed, poorly, mouth absolutely dry. Lucius’ eyes narrowed, the slight tug of your hand not met with a release from Mr. Malfoy.

“Indeed, I can see it now, you do resemble your father quite lovely, Miss l/n,” He critically examined the details of your face, then you uncomfortably stirred as his attention continued down to your shoes before back up. You felt even more physically ill. “Ah, yes, I should have been aware of your strangeness, no doubt from your father.”

“Thank you, sir,” you uneasily thanked him for what you believed to be a compliment, his next statement stirring something inside you that reflected resentment. “I beg your pardon?” 

Lucius’ hold tightened on your hand and your breath caught, still stuck in place. “I know I was not alone surprised to hear l/n’s daughter had been sorted into Hufflepuff, especially considering your father’s illustrious reign of Slytherin when he had attended Hogwarts.” Your father was a private person, but Mr. Malfoy now expressed that he knew more than you had of his history in school. You were running through a million questions, your face twisting in confusion and stunned dubiety while you tried to determine whether or not you could believe anything that sept from the tongue of a Malfoy. You were unpleasantly, but not unexpectedly disappointed when it came to this family, even more so now. 

Malfoy senior raised a brow, satisfied smirk taking place upon his features as your momentary inner conflict elicited his desired, questionable torment. “Oh. Tell me your father did share his past with you, he is quite well-known in my line of… business. As I am confident my own son has brought well awareness to the respectful Malfoy name?” He questioned you, his attention pulling momentarily behind you. “Ah, Draco, my son, there you are.” Draco had tried to make your aid quickly, but knew better than to appear at all distressed by his father. He calmly declined down the steps with a straight spine, holding his head high. You were sure you lost all feeling at this point, your struggle to free your hand from Mr. Malfoy’s no longer implicating you. You had completely gone stiff, body as tense as stone with just the feeling of his presence falling to the step beside you. “Have you had the privilege of making the lovely Miss l/n’s acquaintance?”

If only he knew. You didn’t turn, no desire to actually face him after all this time on holiday. You felt him before he was even down the stairs, apples cursing her senses that should have been on guard if not for the crowd of wizards. It was absolutely unbelievable, just standing close was enough to drive you absolutely rigid. 

“I don’t believe I have, father,” Draco’s voice flooded your ears but your attention remained positioned opposite of him, refusing to even acknowledge the addition as he lied to his father. His voice seemed deeper and you could actually visualize the notion that he’d grown even taller in these few months. You didn’t know why, but the ice that froze your entire frame solid was also striking the depths of your eyes, fighting with yourself to keep your emotions from reaching the surface. Draco turned toward you, waiting to grasp your attention while Lucius watched your worrisome expression unfold. Out of all the people that you could have come across this afternoon, did it have to be the Malfoys? They were expecting you to answer, waiting for you to say something with an expectant, pounding gaze that dismantled everything you were trying to keep calm. 

“Y/n!” Your head snapped up hearing your own name, immediately recognizing George’s voice as he maneuvered through the crowd to appear at the bottom of the staircase. A relief carried through you, the blessed ability to breathe again returning to your lungs. His normally light-hearted expression was replaced by a firm perplexity, worry enlightening his features immediately at the sight of you swarmed by the Malfoy’s. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, a Weasley,” Lucius finally dropped your hand and you quickly tightened it to your front. George nodded towards the elder Malfoy, ignoring Draco’s daggering glare from opposite you. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” George had to resist the urge to sneer his name, not at all fond of anything that had the smallest bit of relation to do with the Malfoy family, especially because Draco was identical to the nightmare Mr. Weasley described after encountering Mr. Malfoy through work. George’s eyes focused back on you, trying to identify any signs of misfortune caused by these blokes. You couldn’t even smile, you met his eyes and he read the plea you wore that begged of saving so easily. “We’re going,” George held his hand up the staircase towards you and you jumped at the opportunity so fast. You didn’t look at Draco, fleeing right past him to place your hand within George’s open palm. 

Your arm was caught at the last opportunity, Mr. Malfoy’s hold on your arm preventing you from fully descending down the steps. You turned towards Mr. Malfoy who wore a sickening grin. 

“Miss l/n, it was delightful speaking with you,” Mr. Malfoy nodded down to you, grip tightening on your arm as you forced a polite parting smile, still trying to climb down the steps. “Take care. It appears this may be farewell, for now. Perhaps my boy may extend an invitation to join us for super one night, that would be exquisite,” his last words felt like a threat, a daring twist in his head almost had you collapsing in your current stance. The list of things you would do rather than agree to voluntary torture during an evening with the Malfoys was quite lengthy. You cleared your throat, a slight motion down to his grip on your arm with the smallest nod. 

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy,” you lied obviously, not even trying as he finally freed your arm and you did not hesitate to make a run for it with George. Once you were outside, you wanted to celebrate by trapping George in a tight hug for saving the day, almost everything lifting off your shoulders now that you were away from both of them. 

"Are you alright? What was that about?" George asked, letting your hand return to your side. You bit your tongue immediately, shrugging your shoulders and trying to keep the excuse as simple as possible as to not elicit any further questions from the innocent twin. 

"Not sure, Mr. Malfoy just appeared out of nowhere. Why am I not convinced he just wanted to help me reach a dumb book?" He walked shortly beside you, the wind still knocked out of you from the whole interaction with the Malfoys. It was overwhelming to be in both of their presence at once, the fear still audible in your fumble. You honestly had no idea what it was, why must Mr. Malfoy approach you of all people? 

"Is that not what you keep me around for? One of the many things I'm spectacular at," George was already twisting it into a joke to distract the distraught details crowning over your complexion. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him now? Why did he look so much like his father? 

"Being tall naturally does not count as a skill,” you teased, falling into a small walk beside him. You really couldn’t even feel your feet moving through the street. Diagon Alley was still packed, noise not really bothering you as much as the silence thoughts of your own mind would potentially. Given just silence right now, you’d remain in a tortured ponder of thoughts that only consisted of Draco. 

"Nonsense, it would have paid off if you gave me the opportunity, it definitely has its perks," George chuckled, uttering excuses to push past the crowds, his hand occupying the space on the small of your back to escort you through swarms of witches and wizards. 

"You're right,” you sighed, polite smiles towards familiar faces as they passed. “From now on, you're stuck with me. My own personal ladder,” George joined you in a light laughter, hand motioning up to return the gesture as his twin called them over to where the remainder of his family stood outside another shop on the street corner. 

"Does it pay well?" George asked, glancing down at you with an expectant, raised brow. You shrugged your shoulders, scrunching your nose with a loud sigh. 

"Not at all, actually,” you clarified, feet carrying you to return to the sides between Fred and Ginny once more. “Can I offer you compliments and hugs?" George sneered his facial features as if he was actually pausing to consider your offer. 

George slipped a set of books from his younger sister’s hands, spinning you around to stuff them into your tote. "After due consideration, I may just happily accept,” George set his head upon your shoulder while you both chuckled happily, nudging his frame with your backside as he returned to your side, nudging you right back. 

"You are both rather annoying. It’s like dealing with another set of him and Fred," Ginny groaned, a look of joking disgust occupying her brims. You and George exchanged a glance and Fred crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Rather rude comparing me to the likes of her,” Fred joked obviously, earning a punch on his shoulder from George. You knew never to take them seriously, aiding in the laughter that became of all of you. 

"I was about to say the same thing!" You chimed in, exchanging a playful sneer with Fred as you both plain laughed at yourselves. Bickering between siblings was a great distraction, Fred and Ginny joining George and yourself in sarcastic exchanges. 

Following the incident in the bookstore, you became overly skeptical and curious of your father, who shared no remote similarities to that of a Slytherin. You knew your father, he was as far from a Slytherin as you were, which made you even more upset. Were you more like Draco then you could realize? You did get a considerable amount of features from your father, but his traits had always been loyal and true, you didn't know him to share any characteristics with Slytherins. He wasn't cunning or mischievous, he couldn't have been Slytherin.

George must have noticed your mood change, suddenly stuck sorting the possibilities in your head rather than joining the chatter that emerged through the family once everyone had left the bookshop. You couldn't get out of there fast enough, nearly sprinting into the freedom as soon as the opportunity from George presented itself. You felt like staying on your feet was even too much to handle, the urge to collapse in the middle of the road was seeming more and more appealing. 

George was still staring at you. You brushed up against his arm to try and get him to drop it without making it obvious to the others who were enjoying Diagon Alley. You weren't even sure you really wanted to see your parents now, troubled relentlessly with what Mr. Malfoy had said about your father. Why didn't you know this? Your mother was a Hufflepuff, why didn't you recall any details about your father's life at Hogwarts? You needed to get out of your head before the others caught on to your unwell. You sent George a soft nod, pulling your brims into a fraud, forced, reassuring smile. He didn't buy it but was pulled back into the arguments from Fred and Ginny, just as Mrs. Weasley found Mr. Weasley heading your way. 

You realized he was walking beside your parents and for now, bottled up your curiosity. In the next few hours, you'd be at the World Cup, and then just as quickly, back on the train to Hogwarts, you really didn't have the time to create drama with your parents about your father's secret life. 

"Miss y/n, a pleasure," Mr. Weasley greeted you, a light wave towards his own family. You grinned politely up towards Weasley senior, bowing your head a bit. 

"Always great to see you, Mr. Weasley!" you greeted him back, excusing yourself from the space between his children so you could properly meet his acquaintance. 

"Y/n! Honey!" You nodded past Mr. Weasley and snuck around the side of him to get to your parents who had started to trail just a couple steps behind. You strolled over happily, ignoring what had happened in the bookshop. 

"Since you will spend another birthday away from home, we got you something," your father started, noticing a secret gap he held in his coat. You were already shaking your head in disagreement. 

"Mum, dad, no. Come on, please, it's not necessary," you started to argue, causing your mother to roll her eyes and reach for your shoulder. 

"Hush now, dearest. Stop your worrying, it was your father’s idea and about time, I’m sure,” Your mother added, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. You watched then as your father removed a small bundle that he'd had tucked spaciously under his coat. Your eyes lit up seeing the tiny kitten and you seemed to immediately melt into a pool of gooey glee. Your father transferred the little kitten into your arms as the Weasley's huddled around to see the tiny fella. 

"He looks like a Dumbledore," Fred commented, a small finger brushing the top of the tiny kitten’s head. Ginny nudged her older brother. 

"Shush up, Fred, you dope,” Ginny made you laugh, all of you looking down to where the kitten now laid against your chest. 

"Well, what are you gonna name him?" Fred asked, tilting his head at the same moment his brother did. 

"I like George! It has the uttermost potential and power, he'll be as great as his name!" George added cheerfully, his own hand reaching out to pet your cat. 

"What about Diggory?" Your eyes widened again in even more excitement, pausing as your ears caught the sound of his familiar voice in the distance. Ginny moved to rescue the kitty because your immediate response was to book it towards the source. You sprinted only a couple feet, catching sight of Cedric and his father on their way to join the rest of you. You were already squealing happily, jumping into Cedric's arms as he caught you tightly and spun you around in joyful rejoice.

"I'm guessing she really likes part two of her gift," your father noted in a quiet, humorous gesture down towards your mother, who whacked his arm. 

"Ced! I missed you so much!" You were sure you were both squeezing the life out of each other as Cedric laughed, keeping you off your feet for another moment. It was so nice to be back with Cedric, especially after how you’d left things the last time you were together at school. You’d made your peace through notes, knowing that there was more than needed to be spoken of eventually.

"You as well! My favorite maiden, how are you, love?" Before you even got a chance to answer, a voice from behind you chimed in. 

"Wow, Ced, I am hurt. You think you know a guy and come to find out you’re not even his favorite," your attention pulled away from Cedric hearing Elle's voice behind you as she grinned happily beside the Weasleys now. Cedric struggled to put you back on your feet before you ran towards Elle, who met you halfway as you collided at full speed in one another's arms. You were sure you'd feel it soon, but right now, you didn’t recognize the pain, you were both just happy as you could be reuniting with your closest friends. 

"You swore you couldn't make it!" You squealed, suffocating the life out of your friend who did the same. 

"We're surprised you even bought it,” Elle replied, both of your faces dressed in huge smiles. You both squeezed until you were wincing in pain from crushing one another. Cedric followed you, walking much more patiently behind you until he reached you two.

"She's an awful liar," Cedric tolled in, Elle finally letting you breathe as she moved to embrace Cedric as well. You were almost in happy tears from the reunion, which was also normal for you and Elle. 

"I am not, I just can't lie to her!" Elle groaned, giving Cedric a slight squeeze as he threw his arm around you and pulled you both tighter to himself. The three of you all clutched closely in a group hug, which happened to smother you right in the middle. 

"You can thank Mr. Diggory for offering to bring Elle to the World Cup," your father chimed in, instantly being met by dismissing tones from Mr. Diggory who joined the group beside the parents.

"Please, it was all your own parents, y/n. I can't keep you kids apart to save my life,” Mr. Diggory was a smaller man with glasses on the brink of his nose. You’d known him too your whole life, a secondary father figure of sorts. You beamed brightly towards him with a single nod towards you, a motion that you met with your own bow. 

"Of course not, we are magnets, Mr. Diggory!" Elle symbolized, pulling you in tightly again as your own parents laughed in agreement. 

"You can try to keep them apart," your mother explained, causing the three of you to gleam in fits of triumph. 

"But we will find our way right back together," you pulled Cedric back into a tight, tackled embrace between the three of you. It had just been you and Cedric for the longest time, but meeting Elle just sealed the deal. 

"They're adorable!" Ginny swooned sweetly, leaning against her brothers who stood sickened watching the lovey-dovey reunion between the Hufflepuff trio. 

"It's kind of sickening, no?" Fred asked, exchanging a glance with George. Both of them looked utterly confused and partially nauseating from the display. 

"I don't recall, do all Hufflepuffs act this mushy?" George asked, cryptically judging the closeness between the three of you. You stuck your tongue out at him and he scoffed, returning the tease.

"Every single one of us!" You answered with bright brims, the three of you finally letting one another go to stand side-by-side. George and Fred snickered among themselves, deviously proud grins. 

"Another reason why I belong in Gryffindor, home of the brave," George stated, clearing his throat while broadening his shoulders. You glanced from Elle to Cedric, all of you scorned at the teasing, all of you dismissing the notion. 

"Oh please, don't be jealous, dear George, there is more than enough love to go around." You wiggled your arms out towards him, causing him to take a worried step back to keep the distance. 

“Not necessary, y/n,” George refused, keeping a hand between you to keep the space. You taunted a brow, winking up at him with a tease wavering between your fingers. “Cedric,” George called, causing Cedric to place his hand upon your shoulder to stop your advancement. 

“You’re frightening the poor boy, y/n,” you all laughed at Cedric’s words just as the others did as well, already engulfed in the joking admissions from the group of kids. 

You did not even notice all the adults that had drifted away to discuss the plan for this evening's game. Mr. Diggory was still trying to get your father to agree to come through Portkey, swearing it was the safest way. The remainder of the kids were exchanging reunited gestures, taking turns jumping this way and that to make sure everyone was reunited properly. 

You had forgotten about Draco, honestly, occupied entirely by the reunion and presence of your friends. That was, until your gaze drifted from the laughter expressed between Cedric and the twins who were caught up in eager excitement over the upcoming game. He was just now leaving the bookshop with his father, carrying himself tall with a smirk upon his lips whilst his stare had finally captured your attention. This was the first time you'd actually seen him with your eyes rather than just felt him, and it was only for a split second. Your moment was cut early and thankfully so. 

Cedric caught sight of both Malfoys only a moment after you had locked eyes with Draco who was walking past. He quickly folded you to his side and stepped to the side to block you from exchanging any further gaze with Draco, who bore narrow daggers at Cedric's gesture, following his father and disappearing into the crowd. George noticed the movement, glancing past Cedric to catch Draco still staring at where you stood. George had questions you weren't prepared for, but tabled them for now. 

"Wait a moment, you're missing a ginger!" Elle paused, her digit extending over each of the Weasley siblings. Ginny laughed, nodding her head. 

"Two actually, great perception you've got there. Ron and Percy, they're home waiting for Granger and Potter." Elle and you exchanged a scandalous grin, winking over towards Ginny who heated up immediately, catching the drift as you snuck away from Cedric and the twins to trap Ginny between yourself and Elle. 

"Shut it, both of you,” she shoved your arms and you giggled gently down to the space between and Elle, throwing your hands up in innocence. 

"We hadn’t even said a thing!” Elle admitted, poking at Ginny’s sides as the smaller girl batted at her hands. 

"Yes, but you are thinking it!” Ginny warned, using her palm to lightly thwap against either side of both of your heads. You both rubbed your hair, stifling laughter with a stealthy glimpse. 

"Come on, Ginny, you can't hold their thoughts against them, that's just plain unfair!” George butted in, tousling his sister’s hair while attempting Ginny tried to elbow him in the gut. 

"Plus, it's pretty obvious you fancy Potter,” Fred continued for his brother, earning a firm punch in the shoulder from Ginny’s angsty frame. Fred winced, hissing out a groan while rubbing his arm.

"Hey! I do not--" Ginny declared, as if she was trying to convince herself rather than the lot of you that could see clearly through her lie. 

"Wait!" You interrupted her, Elle clearing her throat to finish for you, pausing to build the suspense building through friends. 

"Before you even try, is it really worth it to try and say you aren't?" Ginny hesitated, groaning aloud while tossing her head back. The entire bunch of you erupted in laughter, just as the parents returned. 

“Alright, children, here is what we have decided,” Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley explained that they would be taking the entire group. You glanced at your father, who shrugged his shoulders carelessly. He really hadn't wanted to go in the first place, but Diggory invited them almost every year, they couldn't be rude. 

This new plan meant you, Elle and Ced would be having one of your infamous sleepovers at the Diggory household this evening. Neither of you had an issue with it, your own parents agreeing to take your kitten who still needed naming. Your mother had also taken the liberty of packing a bag for you just in case, as if they’d both known they could rid you off with the Diggorys for the evening.

You said quick goodbyes to your parents. They would meet you at the train station before you returned to school, so your goodbyes were brief. You said goodbye to the Weasleys, thanking them for their help and pausing at George, who trapped you in a sudden embrace. “I will see you at dawn, darling,” he whispered near, grinning down at you as you poked his nose. 

You then proceeded to travel back to the Diggory house by floo powder. It was just Cedric and his father, Amos, but they made it work quite marvelously. Amos was a kind person, which seemed to wear off on Cedric. They both welcomed everyone into their home with such gratitude. After super and taking time to catch up, Amos recommended calling it a night as you'd all needed your rest to be up before dawn to reach the Portkey. Even Cedric slept on the floor of his own living room, all of you sprawled out chaotically until you each fell asleep while whispering. 

You were not shocked when your nightmares returned to your slumber that night. You dreamed of Lucius Malfoy hurting the people you cared for most while Draco just laughed, listening to you cry. You jumped up, waking Cedric as well. Cedric sat up for you for a while, offering to talk about it while you apologized. You didn't want to talk about it and after a couple of attempts, he understood it and just focused on trying to get your mind off it. Cedric comforted you back to sleep and then fell asleep himself. 

The next morning, you were all up and at it before the sun had peaked on the horizon. You waited for the Weasleys to join you and the others in the forest, falling behind schedule when the sun rose and there had just been the smallest sight of them trudging through the forest. You reunited with the golden trio, exchanging cheerful greetings and lively conversation about holiday as you reached the portkey. 

You and Elle found the Weasleys unfortunate, rough landing quite humorous, earning you a fight with the twins who teased you both until you reached the crowd of tents outside the Quidditch stadium. You parted with the Weasleys and returned to the Diggory tent to settle in, then Fred and George came by to steal you, Cedric and Elle away to tour the grounds. It was usually just you, your father and the Diggorys for these events, but having the Weasleys there was much more fun. George somehow managed to convince you and Elle to share the green face paint for the Irish, wrapping you in his scarf right before you made your way in to find your top tier seats. 

You were on your way to the top, following Mr. Diggory and Elle with Cedric right behind you when your name was called. You froze, but Cedric turned first, his hand on your back to force you up the remainder of the stairs. It had been Lucius Malfoy, and Cedric refused to give him the time of day because of the thin man that followed just a few steps behind. If not for Cedric shoving you up the stairs, you probably wouldn't have made it without tripping over your own feet. You heard Mr. Malfoy hassling the others behind you, but didn't stop. You swore to hear his voice boasting about their own seats, making you even more nauseous as you clung to Elle and Cedric while they helped you up the steps. Side effects of the treacherous traitor that beat inside your breast, you were able to be a heartbroken heathen and desire-driven dummy at the same time. 

Being raised with your father and Cedric, you were quite an active supporter of the sport, you cheered for Cedric in the stands at Hogwarts and never missed a game. You had even offered the twins some pointers back in school. But, not today, in a place where you were free to scream and cuss your heart out, the smallest knowledge Draco was there made you sick. You tried to be as involved as possible, somehow managing to move from Elle and Cedric to squeezed between the twins. You matched one another's volume as if it was a competition, you had a good time, all things considering. Elle noticed the flirty glances and outrageous laughter you and George had numerously found yourselves in, sending you a playful wink after Ireland had finally won the game and your immediate reaction was to jump into one another, George lifting you off the ground in celebration. 

After the game, the twins invited them back to their tent to celebrate the victory. They accepted, needing to stop back at the Diggory tent before doing so, but agreeing to meet them in a couple minutes. You and Elle were gossiping about George, you tried brushing it off but even Cedric agreed that he seemed a little too close. You didn't believe it, you and George were just good friends. 

You were arguing with them on your way to the Weasley tent when the screams started. At first, you didn't even recognize it as a bloody, horrified scream, you figured it was just more excited hollers, which had been happening all night. You don't remember much but the explosion in the tent right beside you that had knocked all three of you off your feet. You'd cut your arm and the side of your cheek when you'd fallen against a broken bottle. Elle had been knocked unconscious when her head hit a rock on the way down. Both Cedric and you having to drag her along as you panicked, damaged hearing while being violently shoved this way and that by terrified witches and wizards, nearly trampling over one another to get to safety. Cedric pointed out the small group of death eaters that marched through the crowd, heading back towards the direction of the portkey. You were knocked over once more by a man that drove straight through you, separating you from Cedric who called for you, even though you couldn't hear. 

You tried to stand, but people were running around you, throwing you back on the ground with every attempt. Your fear was preventing you from feeling the pain of being stomped and stepped on, then you were being forced onto your feet by hands on your sides that stabilized you and shoved you forward. You tried to turn, figuring it might be Cedric when you both tripped, falling onto your backs just as another explosion vibrated the ground below you, your ears ringing even louder as the stranger was suddenly hovering above you, arm outstretched to protect you from the debris. When you looked up, the smoke was thick and you couldn't focus, but you were sure you'd been knocked unconscious as well. Draco pulled you off the ground after a glance around to assure it was safe to run. You weren't sure if he was talking, pushing you through the crowd and then just like that, disappearing as soon as Cedric found you. Cedric just grabbed your hand and kept running. 

You were almost knocked over when Ginny and Fred ran into you, with Hermione and Ron right behind them. They tried to talk to you, but neither you or Cedric could hear straight. Cedric moved Elle into Fred's arms while you searched the mess for George, clutching Ginny's horrified frame close. 

You tried to argue, finally realizing what Cedric was doing, even fighting against Hermione and Ron while they held you back as Cedric headed back into the burning grounds to find his father. You couldn't hear what anyone was saying, you were crying hysterically while fighting to follow Cedric when you were scooped off your own feet. 

George had left his brother for a moment to try and find you and the others when he heard you and Cedric and returned just in time to pick you up and drag you along as you all made a break for the hill once more. You argued while George yelled down at you, still not able to hear while you begged him to let you go back in after Cedric. 

Once you were at the Portkey, you all just waited. Fred and George argued about leaving with Hermione and Ron who had also lost Harry in the chaos. You were agitated as well, worried about Cedric but currently assuring Ginny she was okay and looking after a still unconscious Elle, praying your friend was okay. Ginny tried to take a look at your ears, but it was no use. You were confused again, why was Draco in the middle of what had happened? Why did it seem like he tried to help you? None of this amounted to any ounce of sense. 

Seeing the twins and the others turn made you as well, jumping to your feet as Cedric and Mr. Diggory appeared in the distance. You hurried to Cedric, throwing your arms around your friend and beating him up simultaneously. Neither of you could hear as you yelled at him, Mr. Diggory instructed the twins to return while Hermione and Ron argued they weren't leaving without Harry. 

Mr. Diggory had no choice but to let them go back into the mess to try and locate Harry, the twins needing to get Ginny back home safely. Cedric and you carried Elle back towards the Weasley household which was closer. Mrs. Weasley helped in getting Elle back, as well as examining Cedric and your ears, which both needed healing. George showed you to the bathroom where he gently cleaned your cuts and the dry blood from your ears, even the mud from your cheeks and scraped palms. It felt like forever for you, and you were sure it was even more agonizing for Mrs. Weasley who paced uneasily as you all waited for the others to return. You'd fallen asleep on George's shoulder, Elle asleep on you and Ginny sprawled across Fred with her feet across Cedric. 

It was nearly dawn when the others finally barged through the door and startled everyone but you, Cedric and Elle, who were still nearly deaf. They all returned home safely., Mrs. Weasley insisting everyone stayed to rest after what happened. George wrote it down for you and Cedric, offering their own beds in return for the living room floor. You and Elle shared George's bed, not wanting to be alone as Cedric took Fred's. You noted the intense comfort and relaxation that George's bed granted you, letting his scent deliver you into a much needed sleep. 

Everyone was still on edge the next day, all of you needing to return to Hogwarts didn't make it any less worse. You met your parents at the station, assuring them that you were truly fine and didn't need to seek a healer or the infirmary, compromising by agreeing to visit Madam Pomfrey when you arrived at school. They had all of your belongings already, even your kitten, still waiting to be named.

You said your goodbyes and then joined the others onboard. You shared a train car with Cedric, Elle and the twins, still chatting about what had happened in raised voices since you three were still struggling to hear. It gave the twins a reason to yell. Really not able to hear, you were stuck in your head again, and foolishly thinking about what happened. What you vaguely remembered about what occurred seemed unlikely. Draco Malfoy actually tried to help you?

You were positively mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! The end of Chapter 6, congrats! I hope you didn't hate it too much! Sorry there was really no involvement when it came to World Cup, really wasn't something I was keen on writing about just because I have bigger plans in store. Looking forward to hearing from you all, quick thanks to all that have been leaving kudos and comments since the start and the newcomers! I appreciate all of you! Much love, mango.


	7. Drunk Divinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are back at Hogwarts! While trying to forget about the nightmare that unfolded at the Quidditch World Cup, the ingenious Weasley Twins extended an invitation to their annual Welcome Home celebration before the beginning of classes. Figuring no Slytherin cared to really mingle with the other houses, this is your opportunity to have a bit of leisured fun before term. No one thought to tell you, this year, they also invited the snakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7, thank you for sticking around this long! This chapter was definitely more fun to write, I hope you have fun reading! It is honestly a dream of mine to party with the Weasleys. Hopefully, I did well picturing it for the both of us.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was a Weasley tradition. They had many different code names for the party, but nevertheless, it was a sort of ‘home-sweet-home’ event; the first weekend before classes resumed just became routine. Really, it was an excuse the houses had to mingle and reconnect after holiday. It was also not a usual house party because the brilliant boys would always take care of the professors and Filch. Every year it was something new, but it seemed to always be related to their mischievous snack-box. They would find something nearly harmless to slip to the adults to assure the kids had the night to themselves, which was devious of course, but still disheartening. You didn’t argue, though, usually having fun yourself. You’d attended the Weasley’s welcome back parties since year one, friends with the Weasley twins, but you’d also been dragged along by Cedric and Elle.

There was rarely anyone from Slytherin that cared to attend, so you weren’t worried, you were actually excited to see everyone again. You knew things would be different this year after the Triwizard Competition announcement earlier at dinner, but even those of age would take the night to have fun. The Weasleys were great at reminding you to live life and not grow up too fast. They were always goofy themselves, never ashamed of themselves and always happy and eager to have fun. Games and tricks, they were a Weasley specialty. It was something you loved about them. Those brilliant gingers, perhaps they could share some of their secrets.

You didn’t think about Draco now. After dealing with him staring at you the entirety of dinner and the incident in Diagon Alley, you wanted no reason to worry about him. You thanked yourself for making seeing him feel so easy, even pondering the possibility you could let go of anything to do with Draco Malfoy. Maybe you would give yourself chance to find the real thing, the real love that existed out there for you. You knew it wasn’t with Draco, many soulmates don’t find peace together, why did you have to? If the right man was out there, what business did some silly soulmate bond have getting in the way? You could do it the muggle way, you didn’t need a soulmate if you could find real love. You would try to write your own destiny, regardless of what the dumb world had planned for you-- it wasn’t Malfoy. But then it would hit you, why did he help you at the World Cup?

Elle ran into the room just in time, her bright blue strands knitted into braided space buns perched atop her head, a light pink flooding from her cheeks over her nose. She was adorable, her usual bright blue hues accentuating her fair skin as she jumped onto the bed beside where you sat on the floor. You were still painting, fingers still stained with shades pale and deep yellow, infused with deep tones of emerald. The canvas just below your brush was wet with swirled tones, currently laying on your stomach while you swayed your feet behind you and peacefully painted. Elle loved parties, she was not as reserved as she may seem when it came to this night. On this night, herbology was her favorite subject and she was fluent in liquor language. Elle craved a good night, full of fun, a promise the Weasleys had always kept, even if it meant you dragging her by her arms back to the dorm at night.

“You’re going to make us late, y/n,” Elle sighed loudly, followed by a rather dramatic groan while watching through bored eyes. You brushed the back of your hand against your cheek, not realizing you’d left a stain of green in its place. You leaned back and squinted at the canvas before you from a distance.

“It is a party, El,” you laughed in response, tucking the brush just behind your ear. “No one is really ever late, others just arrive in a more timely manner… What do you see?” You asked her, head becoming perched upon your hands while eagerly anticipating her answer. She poked her head over the bed and then proceeded to throw her legs to your opposite side.

“Messy colors? Rather gloomy, any chance you would care to borrow my magenta? I also carry the periwinkle and sunflower pigments,” she playfully kicked your side lightly and you rolled your eyes at her sarcasm, mocking her laughter.

“Let me get changed,” you scooted her with your hands, pulling yourself onto your firm feet. She huffed again and took slow, big steps towards the door.

“Don’t be long, Ced’s waiting!” She called, pulling the door shut behind her. It was only shut for a moment before she stormed back in, waving her arms and giving you a heart attack. “Merlin's beard! I almost forgot!” Elle sang, skipping over to her tote which was spilt carelessly over her bed. She pulled through fabric galore, sending them flying this way and then that. You hurried to catch them as they nearly fell upon your still drying canvas.

“Heavens, what are you doing? You look nice, you really don’t need to change,” you complimented her as she furiously continued to tear through her bag. She was currently wearing a white sweater that was twice her size and seemed to fall off her shoulder, tucked into the waistband of her yellow plaid skirt. As usual, she looked better than nice, she looked amazing as the blue of her eyes and hair flowed the colors she wore.

Elle laughed, brows furrowed as she sent you a slight smile. A smile that had your own falling from your lips. It was the smile she learned from the bloody Weasleys! She was up to something. “It’s not for me.” Elle laughed happily, your arms folding over your chest immediately in objection.

“No way, El! I have my own clothes, I can find something rather comfy cozy for Gryffindor,” you explained, actually having no idea what you wanted to wear. Elle shook her head, finally whipping an item from her tote with a wicked smile. Your brows knitted together while trying to distinguish what the tiny fabric actually was.

“Bloody hell!” You erupted in disbelief, watching her push the dress up against your frame. If you could call it a dress. “Have you gone mad? Have you forgotten we’re only going to the Gryffindor common room, not the blimey pub, psycho?” She laughed evilly, already pulling the smock off your front as she forced the dress back into your arms. “Where did you get emerald silk?”

“Stop being a prude, y/n! It’s quite lovely! Besides, your clothes are all wretched,” you nudged her shoulder, turning the dress over in your hands. “It’s a fashion secret, hun.”

“I beg your pardon! My clothes are all comfortable and stylish, El, this is—“ she cut you off. 

“It’s perfect for you! Stop complaining, we’re already running late! Get changed!” And then she was gone again, leaving you and the deep green silk to somber thoughts. The longer you stared at it, the longer you wanted to just try it on. You figured if you didn’t like it, you could always throw on a knitted sweater and tights.

You quickly changed into the dress, smoothing out the sides just as the door cracked open again. You were ready to yell at Elle again, turning around to see Cedric in the doorway now staring at you with kind eyes.

“Ced!” You called, a smile raising to your lips as you turned to face him. You hadn’t realized his smile was wide, entirely goofy, a blush rising in his cheeks as he took another step in.

“Good evening, y/n! You look...” his voice trailed off, eyes still impressing over every detail in your appearance. You heated under his gaze, smile widening with a light roll of your eyes.

“I was just trying it on, Ced,” you shook your head, letting it fall with a soft twirl of the bottom. You were surprised that the darkest green imaginable actually looked quite nice while paired with your skin, thin straps across your shoulders which led to the division in the neckline which cut slightly lower to reveal more of your bust. It flowed just a couple inches under your bust, stopping just above your mid thigh.

“You look marvelous. Absolutely beautiful,” your heart skipped a beat, the blush now heating obviously upon your cheeks, unable to contain your wide smile.

“Thank you, Ced,” you tried to laugh it off, shifting on your feet. “Really, I just think it’s too much.” You knew it was out of your comfort zone. You tugged your hair free of the tie, letting it gracefully return to your shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” he hummed, sending you a friendly smile as he snatched the paintbrush gently from behind your ear and dropped it back in the cup on your dresser. You thanked him again with a small courtesy. Cedric wore a button down covered with a deep yellow sweater vest, folding the collar of the fancy top just over the knitted fabric. “Shall we?” He jokingly outstretched his elbow as you slid your feet into a pair of black slippers beside Elle’s bed. You rolled your head back, laughing while taking his arm and starting towards your own common room to meet up with the others.

You begged for them to stop flattering you with compliments, knowing it was just the Hufflepuff way to try and help her obvious discomfort. You rarely wore such scandalous apparel, it was always something you’d rather leave to Elle. There were over a dozen Hufflepuffs that had been invited, all of you quietly making your way towards the Gryffindor dormitories. Cedric still insisted on escorting you, Elle taking your other arm as the pair proceeded to argue over the new Professor and his eye. Professor Moody. You were rather upset to hear about Professor Lupin, Diggory agreed but wasn’t surprised since Hogwarts went through Professors like it was a race. Before you knew it, you were at the Gryffindor dorms, Seamus standing at the portrait to let people in.

“Thanks, Seamus!” You called in addition to the others after he’d opened the portrait for the entire group, the loud sounds from within immediately echoing off the walls while you all followed in. There were more people than you could remember there having been, not able to identify all of them fast enough as music played from somewhere and everyone was talking and hollering. It felt familiar and splendid already.

You stayed close to Cedric and Elle, who headed straight towards drinks to find the Weasley twins, currently arguing with their younger brother, Ron. They paused seeing you all, faces enlightening.

“Ah! The party has arrived! Welcome—”

“Welcome Huffles!” They managed to end one another’s sentences, Fred finishing George’s greeting as their hands shot up and cheers bounced off the crowd. Elle and Cedric joined, causing you to laugh and throw your head back in unison to cheer, just a bit of representation for the Hufflepuffs.

“Can I offer either of you beautiful ladies a nice beverage?” George asked, having to practically yell over the noise while leaning his head between you and Elle. You were ready to shake your head when you felt Cedric pause beside you, the lighthearted warmth on his features dissolving as something behind you caught his attention. You glanced past George who had begun going over the beverage options with Elle. Cedric placed his hand on your back to try and prevent you from peering over to where his glance was fixed, but it wasn’t worth it. You didn’t listen, peaking over George’s shoulder until you regretted it.

Just your luck really, in the far corner, a group of Slytherins hung around the fireplace. You tore your eyes away the moment you realized they were Slytherin, but it wasn’t fast enough. Sure enough, the first gaze you caught happened to be that of the white-haired fool who was intensely staring from a distance. You sunk back into your body, running a shaky hand through your hair while trying to focus on calming down. You had no reason to be upset, sure you were shocked that they were here, always keeping their distance from Gryffindor dormitories and against all house bonding.

Draco was staring at you from across the room, and had been since the moment he saw you walk in. Sure, he’d come up with some excuse to join the others who all wanted to come tonight— solely because he wanted to see you, but he’d been distracted by the door since they arrived. He waited for you, wondering if you’d even be in attendance, and then you came in with Cedric Diggory and his anger was only able to be subsidized by the view of you in a tiny dress.

“And you, love?” George’s voice interrupted your shock, making you realize you were still in your body. You forced a grin up at George, having no idea what was going, completely spaced out.

“Oh she doesn’t drink—“ Elle tried to explain, stopped by your outstretched hand, nerves on edge and needing some attending to. You shook your head, trying to push the thought of Malfoy from your mind and honestly have a good night.

“One won’t hurt,” you grinned towards George, not even sure what you were agreeing to as he nudged your side happily.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, great idea, l/n,” George then disappeared around the corner to grab drinks, both Cedric and Elle staring down at you with concern.

“Come on, y/n,” Elle folded her arms, skeptical brows pulling together while her eyes narrowed towards you. “You never drink, you’re supposed to be the responsible one.” You nudged her arm, squeezing her side.

“What’s wrong with one when you’ll be having ten, El? Besides, we’re all here to have fun before another year at Hogwarts!” You cheered, forcing a smile widely towards both of your friends just as Cedric motioned Elle’s attention to the back. Elle followed his gaze, eyes widening in disbelief and anger all at the same time.

“Damn bloke! What the hell does he think he’s doing here? Some wretched nerve, that damn Malfoy,” you leaned into her shoulder, shaking your head and tearing her attention away as she heated at your side. “When did they start inviting snakes?”

“It’s alright, El, really,” you assured me in a plain lie. Cedric was also not fooled, tossing another glance back to Draco before you snapped him out of it. “It is in the past and we do not dwell on the past. Forget about it, and let’s have some fun! Pretty please!” You begged, needing the distraction of your closest friends right now. George had returned, three cups passed between the group as he held his own up to the center.

“To another chaos-full year at Hogwarts?” Cedric asked, laughing while raising his own cup. You and Elle exchanged a glance.

“Or for our own precious boy’s favor in the Triwizard Games?” You added, nudging your hip into Cedric’s side as his free hand tossed over your shoulder for a side hug.

“Please, our golden boy does not need luck or fortune, he’s a natural!” Elle cheered, joining in on the loud outburst in support of Cedric, who blushed deeply. You hadn’t even realized the group had been interrupted by more Hufflepuffs and a couple of Gryffindors who all raised their glasses as well. Cedric was now being patted on the shoulder, hoots and hollers cheering his name as his friends joined in. You knew a couple, but didn’t pay much attention. They were usually like this, always loud and obnoxious but with a good reason to be.

“Just wait until we are of age, boys! Eternal glory will be mine,” Fred insisted, George appearing at his side with a deep chuckle.

“I think you mean mine, Freddie,” George added, the pair’s laughter causing the rest of you to join in as well. “But this year, we put our luck in you, Diggory!” Fred raised his cup as well, the cheers erupting once more from their group.

“To Diggory! The future Hogwarts champion!” One of his friends shouted over the applause, all cups hanging in the air for a moment longer, and then downed. You brought the rim of your cup to your lips and hesitated slightly, before downing it back down your throat. You cringed, the bitter taste stinging your throat while you swallowed the liquid. George and Fred caught sight of your distaste, chuckling among themselves.

“You’ve got it, nice and easy. Down the hatch!” George tapped his glass against your own and took another sip, causing you to do the same with a humorous grin. The second drink was not as bad as the first, taking it down with much more grace .

“Are you joking? This tastes like piss,” you informed the boys who simply answered with wicked laughter.

“Ah, but that’s the point, love!” Fred took your hand from Cedric who had become engulfed in conversation with a friend, spinning you around until you landed firm against George.

“We want to get you as pissed as possible! It’s all just good fun,” George added, squeezing your shoulders as he flicked his fingers towards the gramophone off to the side. With his command, the music became louder and within a heartbeat, it felt like everyone was dancing. George and Fred remained close, Elle and you jumping around each other while downing the remainders of your cups. It became easier to ignore Malfoy, especially when Cedric stole your cup and exchanged yours with his own. He told you it was something softer in a complete lie, one sip and you were almost choking on how strong this one was.

“You jerk!” You shouted, turning to face him in the dancing crowd, Cedric taking your hand and giving you a little shimmy while you both laughter, great smiles under the influence of a bittersweet liquor. You didn’t feel anything but a sting in your throat at first. When your second drink was finished, George swiped your hand and led you back towards the table with drinks.

“What can I get you now? Perhaps something lighter than this rubbish?” He took a whiff of your cup and you erupted in giggles. You could say you felt it now. You pulled yourself up onto the ledge beside him, rocking your feet while watching him pour another liquid.

“Lighter? Are you mad? And here I believed the Weasleys knew how to party,” you teased, George scoffed in reply, nodding his head full of ginger strands that bounced around his face.

“You have no idea, Huffle! Alright, let’s see how the big girl can handle this one,” George finished pouring and set the cup within your slightly swaying palm. You brought it to your lips and made the mistake of sniffing first. He scowled just as your face twisted into disgust. “Why would you smell it, you daft doll?” George laughed aloud, rolling his eyes as you tried to prevent an equally outrageous laugh.

“I was obviously expecting peonies and roses, you joker. What do you think?” You laughed, playfully punching his arm while shaking your head and trying to rid the ghastly smell from your nostrils.

“Thinking takes away all of the fun, darling, the goal is to not think,” he persuaded the cup to your lips once more as he did his own, both of you tilting your heads back and letting the liquid burn your insides. 

“Rather ghastly,” you sneered, the taste still sour on your tongue. George shrugged his shoulders, eyes still lit with joy, he took another step closer, reaching out to brush the pad of his thumb against the still drying paint just on your cheek. 

“Some friends you’ve got there, didn’t even enlighten you to the paint on your cheek. Just another reason you should join me more often,” he winked down at you, your breath catching in your throat from the soft gesture. He reached a hand towards where you sat under him upon the ledge. “Shall we?” He invited, causing you to eagerly accept as you slid your palm into his own and he tugged you along back into the crowd. 

You’d forgotten Malfoy’s name with this drink, Elle noticing your unsteady stance on your own feet while you jumped and raved against George and the others. “We’re gonna get some air,” Elle tugged your hand to the side, you offered a gentle wave of your fingertips towards the boys just before you were pulled away. 

“But I can get air here,” you argued, genuinely confused but letting her tug your body through the crowd until you got to the opposite side of the common room.

“You need breathable air, just rest for a second, please,” Elle insisted, causing you to nod in clueless agreement as you brought the cup back to your lips. She tried to steal it and you pulled it away. “What happened to just one, y/n? Can you even recall what number this is? Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”

“Do what you wish, no promises I’ll drink it,” you chimed just as she squeezed your hand and maneuvered back in through the crowd. You still swayed gently to the music, leaning into the support of the wall. You didn’t know when things started getting fuzzy, it just felt like you were floating and it was becoming harder to see.

You were a bit gone when a figure slid into the opposite side of the corner, taking special care to hide themselves from the room. You stood upon the one side of the wall corner and they at the other, just beside one another but opposite.

“You look quite lovely this evening,” you almost choked on your drink, horror immediately drowning your features as you froze against the wall. You’d actually forgotten he was here, distracted by the daze of the liquor and dancing with your friends, but you’d still felt his gaze. You couldn’t let him know it affected you, begging Elle to return soon.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, loud enough for him to hear. Maybe if you took another drink you could drink him away, perhaps you were hearing things. It was just your imagination.

“It appears that you might be enjoying this evening a little too much,” Draco stated, glancing to where you stood just as you took another swig from your cup. Your jaw clenched, happy that you were still able to hate him while drunk.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I have no reason not to,” you replied, tossing your hair just over your shoulder, catching George’s glance from across the room. He was still dancing like a clown, causing you to laugh aloud, a warm smile flooding to your lips. “You should go.”

“And why would I do that? You’re putting on quite an appealing show,” Draco teased, taking a step closer while still hiding around the corner, just moving to get a better view of you. “You look quite divine in green, y/n. What’s the occasion?”

“Watch yourself, Malfoy,” you replied, instantly shifting on your feet, careful not to stumble. ““You almost make it sound as though that’s any of your business, how silly. No occasion, just rejoicing in the reunion of everyone’s company, I was even having a quite splendid time before you came along.”

“Please, darling,” Draco snickered, tossing his head back onto the wall. “Don’t act like you haven’t been lusting for my attention all eve. I’m sure that’s really the only reason why you would actually wear something so delectable, love.” His hand reached out and he ran his fingertips gently over your arm, leaving sparks along your skin. After so long, the simplest touch from him was the smallest bit of ecstasy and with the help of liquor, it felt so right. You paused, not wanting to know how good his touch made you feel, a regretful, scandalous warmth that immediately spread from your cheeks to your core. You bit your lip as his fingers glided up the length of your forearm, Draco still hiding himself around the corner.

“Do you think at all before you speak, Malfoy? You sound absolutely delusional,” you whispered in a soft sigh. Your body was itself right now under the influence, involuntarily leaning into his touch while begging for more of his touch. It was a hazard that ignited so much damage you weren’t possible to comprehend at a time like this. “I had no desire for your attention.”

Draco chuckled, butterflies floating through your insides at the egotistical snicker. “Have you seen yourself? It’s a bit difficult to think like a sane being when you look like this. Enlighten me, what is it you do so desire?” Draco asked, glancing at your reaction from the safety of the shadows. You were surprised to find your body guiding itself along the wall to reach closer to the corner, where his hand now sunk to the hem of your dress. Your stomach was in your throat, grip tightening on your cup while your mind was already in the moment, your true need for him threatening to surface.

“Hey!” Elle called over, shoving through the crowd while dragging Cedric by the back of his shirt. Draco jumped back behind the corner to hide, yanking his hand back as quickly as possible. You burst out laughing the moment you looked in her direction and saw her pulling a tripping and sloppy Cedric over by his collar. Cedric was falling over his own feet, barely able to stay on his feet, actually. “Sorry I took so long, I found this one,” Elle pulled up Cedric who was lost to chuckles and a gone expression. “Ready to get sick in the fireplace.” You laughed, hurrying forward when Cedric started leaning. You balanced him back on his feet and he leaned on the support of Elle, who handed you some water. “I think we should call it a night.”

You groaned, shaking your head quickly. “No, I’m having fun! I don’t wanna go yet,” you argued, still swaying on flimsy feet. Elle returned the groan aloud, throwing her head back while pulling Cedric’s lulled frame up onto her side.

“Me neither!” Cedric slurred, perking up while grinning sloppily. You moved the cup of water to Cedric’s lips and titled it back carefully. Cedric drank, sending you a goofy-drunk grin. “You’re the best, y/n. You look so pretty.”

“Oh, shut up, Ced! You’re pissed,” Elle nudged him, nearly making herself topple over as well. Cedric turned towards her, his head falling over.

“I am not,” Cedric replied, burping out the words as you giggled again and helped him take another sip. “You’re pretty too, Elle. I’m sorry.” Elle and you exchanged a glance, laughter passing between both of you.

“You are, Ced,” you confirmed, trying to get Cedric to finish your water. You squeezed his cheeks and he chortled out a fit out of his chuckles. “But you’re pretty too, Diggs.” 

“Yeah I might be a little,” Cedric burst out into nervous laughter, causing you to do the same in a tragic fit of giggles. “Thank you, little Hufflepuff honey-bun.” 

“More than a bloody little, Diggory. You’re absolutely wasted,” Fred commented, appearing at his side with George, who hung beside you. Your drunk smile brightened seeing George, taking a sip from your cup. Cedric threw his arm around the taller Weasley twin, throwing his head down between him and Elle. 

“Thank you so much for having me, g-guys. I’m having a s-spectacular time,” Cedric was leaning again, this time, it appeared, he was just sinking backwards. Fred and Elle quickly pulled him back to his feet. The two began debating and you ignored the banter, George nudging your side and nearly throwing you off your balance. You matched the wicked grin on his lips, catching his drift as he held his cup out to you and you both quickly exchanged cups. You stole his liquor and replaced it in his hand with your water, you were struggling to hold back your giggles again.

“What are you laughing at?” Elle snapped, physically making you jump through your skin as you faked an innocent raise of your arms. Elle narrowed her eyes and George had to position himself away to contain his own giddy laughter.

“Oh hell, being a bad influence on her now, Georgie?” Fred groaned, an unwavering fit of nervous laughter muffled against your fingertips as George scrunched his nose and shook his head quickly.

“I would never, if anything, you should worry about me,” George replied, sarcasm staining over every syllable as it fled from goofy brims. You were struggling to contain yourself, swaying your unstable figure into his side.

“We should get Ced back,” Elle stated once more, extending an expecting hand towards you that you simply stared at. You pushed your shoulder into that of George’s front, shaking your head.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whined, bringing the cup to your lips and letting a shimmy twirl through your shoulders. “I’m having so much fun, Elle.” Elle wasn’t her usual carefree self at the need to keep you all safe, something you couldn’t understand while she glared a disappointed frown.

“I’ll keep her,” George threw his arm over your shoulder, sending both Elle and Fred a charming grin. Fred chuckled, shaking his head just as Cedric’s legs gave out under him and they both struggled to stabilize him once more. You were struggling not to laugh at him.

“Oh shove off, George,” Fred groaned, pulling Cedric’s slightly shorter frame on balanced feet with his support from both Fred and Elle now.

“I’m serious, I’ll look after her,” George stated again, shrugging his shoulder towards Elle and his more rational other half.

“I’m standing right here and can take care of myself,” you declared, holding up a finger as if anything you said could be taken seriously. Elle and Fred exchanged an annoyed look between both of them as Elle put her hand out towards you once more.

“Very funny, y/n. Let’s get you back to the dormitories,” Elle repeated, still waiting for you to succumb to the right choice. You didn’t actually know what was going on, granted glee from the drinks you’d down with not a worry about the consequences from getting ahead of yourself.

“Oh come on, Elle, let her have her fun. It’s not harming anyone,” George tried again, only to be met with a challenging glare from Elle who dared him to deny her again. She was quite scary when she wanted to be.

“But it will, y/n can’t control herself—“ Elle argued, the cup at your lips almost slipping as you gasped dramatically.

“Can too!” You shot right back, folding your arms objectively across your chest. Elle rolled her eyes, purely annoyed as George stifled a chuckle at your outburst.

“I will,” George nodded, leaning closer down to set his chin atop your hair. “Don’t even fret, Elle, I’ll keep her in check.” George joked, a slight truth to his humorous remark. You tried looking up at him from your angle and failed, causing a laughter to bubble in your chest.

“I’m not leaving her,” Elle stated firmly once more, snapping her fingers in front of Cedric who looked as though he’d passed out on her shoulder. Cedric snapped his eyes open and blinked towards Fred and then to George.

“I’m seeing doubles, Elle,” he whispered in a flat out panic. Elle rubbed her temples with a loud groan as George left your side for a moment. You took a moment to physically count the daze of the twins as your gaze shifted from two to four. 

“She’ll be fine, if she needs, she can always rest in my bed just up the stairs,” George pointed out, a sincerity to his tone that failed to go unnoticed to Elle as she looked to her feet while considering it.

“Oh you’d like that,” Fred chimed in, winking towards his brother who seemed to blush under the gesture.

“Shut up, Freddie. I’m serious, we’ll take care of her,” George repeated, brushing off his twin’s comment and raking a hand through the ginger mop atop his head.

“I hate to agree with doofus over here, but he’s right, we can look after her for awhile, and when Cedric’s safe in bed for the evening, you can always come back to retrieve her,” Fred clarified to Elle, who was losing Cedric, his body was growing more limp even with her support. You laughed to yourself and George poked your side, causing you to smile even wider.

“Hey! Watch it, you two!” Elle called out, causing both of you to flinch away from one another while chuckling. You took a sip and cringed, not expecting the strong liquor to once again burn your throat.

“I’ll watch both of them, Elle,” Fred slapped his brother upside his head. George winced, eyeing his brother skeptically while rubbing his head over his hair. You laughed again, leaning into the support of the wall again. You’d forgotten about Draco, the vague memory of a short exchange reminding you to glance around the corner, which was now empty. Before you could actually ignore his absence, you were already trying to find where he’d disappeared to.

The others had begun debating whether or not Elle would be able to leave you there, but your eyes were searching the crowd. You caught sight of his hair in the center of the raging crowd, no doubt put there by chance of Pansy and the others that wished to party.

“I love this song!” You pulled on George’s sleeve immediately, not registering that the only reason you wanted to be in the crowd right now was because it was where he was. George spun you around his frame and you nearly fell if not for his guiding hands steady on your waist. He weaved you through the crowd and you both began dancing in the center, stuffed between bodies just jumping and swaying to the loud rhythm, your hand still holding onto his sleeve.

Elle was losing Cedric and was also slammed with Cedric’s pal, Zackary, who’d tried to help but was just honestly dragging her down. Fred managed to send Neville to help escort Elle and the drunk boys back to Hufflepuff dormitories. The light from the fireplace dimmed as the music became louder, your vision becoming more blurry as you hung close to George. The pair of you were laughing and dancing like fools, still drinking away your senses. 

With one shove of a body behind him, George was suddenly against you. You were right below him and you both hesitated, your hand still clenched on his sleeve while trying to keep your balance. You just stared up at him, blinking attempts to clear your vision failing. You were close, the smile still taking its hold upon both of your lips. You glanced up to his lips, letting your hand pull itself to his cheek just as you tried to perch yourself onto your toes. It was just a moment, you fully intended to kiss him, but the next second, someone was calling his name and you were being pulled away by your waist.

You started to argue, but it was cut short the minute you were spun into a firm chest and the wave of ghastly comfort swirled with nerves returned. You knew it was him before you even looked up, the quick movement causing you to grip the fabric of his vest to brace yourself. Regrettably, landing you even closer to him. Draco pinned you to his front and began walking you back to the open wall. He grounded your hips into the stone wall, pressing his own cup into your hands.

“You need to calm down, y/n,” Draco sighed, using his finger to tilt the cup upward in your hold. You obeyed and sipped at the water, blinking rapidly. It wasn’t any use, you were still losing yourself, nearly spilling down the side of the wall, unable to rid the smile from your lips. “How trashed are you, love? Look at me,” he tilted your chin by a hold on your chin. The liquor responded by sending your finger to lock through one of his pant loops and tug him closer.

“I am calm,” you whispered back, the strong, unfavorable scent still staining your tongue. You stared up at him wide eyes, his hold still firm on your chin. Your faces were just inches away, you weren’t even sure you were breathing. You wouldn’t remember any of this, nor did you rationally want it to happen. Your desire was currently calling all the shots, deciding otherwise.

“You’re drunk,” Draco declared, fully sober himself from the pressure of making sure you were alright the entire night from a distance. He didn’t object, still hung close to you.

“Just a little, Malfoy,” you whispered back, smiling up at him. Your name rolled off his tongue so sweetly and he caught it. The clench in his jaw and hitch in his breath acknowledged the enjoyment of hearing his name leave your lips.

“Y/n!” George called, pushing through the crowd. Both of you snapped away from each other, but you were still losing your balance. Draco reached out a hand to ground your shoulder to the wall as George caught a glimpse of you and made his way over. 

Confusion lit up across his face seeing Draco, brows furrowing together in surprise and concern as he hurried over. Your smile seemed to falter without Draco so close, but picked up again seeing George rushing over. “Malfoy,” he sneered, not only confused, but fumbled seeing Malfoy still holding you up. “Are you alright, y/n?” George asked, appearing at your side just as Draco let go and George caught you.

“Weasley,” Draco sneered right back, already taking a few steps away. George was supporting you fully at this point, you just felt happy, grinning widely with absolutely no idea what was happening. George supported you only with help from the wall, checking your features for signs of harm from Draco.

“I’m peachy, Georgie,” you slurred a barely eligible sigh, still suffocating in giggles. George nodded, a humor in his own features recognizing your condition.

“Oh no,” he laughed down at you, Draco scoffing at the scene that was unfolding. George wasn’t in a clear mind either, but he could tell you were much worse.

“She’s absolutely pissed, Weasley. She should be back in her dormitory,” Draco commented, watching you sway in your own unsteady stance, every movement almost had you falling over if not for George.

“I’m fine!” You stated in a clear lie, eyes about as heavy as the entire rest of your body. Neither of them listened or acknowledged that you’d even spoken.

“She can rest up in my dormitory for now, we’re waiting for Elle—“ George rationalized, dropping his hand from you the moment Draco interrupted.

“I’m done with this bloody mess anyways. Hufflepuff is on the way, I’ll take her,” Draco offered, shocking George who started to chuckle as if it was a joke. Draco’s features remained seriously knitted in an unimpressed frown.

“Like bloody hell you will, Malfoy,” George argued, snickering the words out though disbelief. Draco’s gaze hardened.

“And letting her stay in this place is any better?” Draco sneered right back, taking a challenging step towards George.

“Yeah, she’s safe here,” George barked right back. You’d just noticed your cup was empty again.

“Rubbish,” Their voices were drowned out with the sounds of the partying as you’d slowly begun sliding away on the side of the wall. They hadn’t even noticed you were making a run for it, distracted by their argument about what to do with you.

You traced your hand to the support of the wall while guiding yourself back towards the table lined with drinks. Your hands laid flat on the table top, fully supporting your tilting frame as you evaluated your options carefully, struggling to focus on any of them.

You had plucked a cup from the table and brought it to your lips, the slight movement was enough for your balance to give. Without the support of the table, you were suddenly falling over. You expected the crash down onto the floor and waited for it to inevitably not come. 

Instead, you were caught by your back, arms tucking under your own and then returning you to your feet. In another quick gesture, they’d turned to your side and curved their arm under the back of your knees. You were suddenly scooped off the ground and cradled to their chest. You couldn’t see but squealed and giggled, relaxing into the tight hold around you as you were carried through the crowd and then out of the Gryffindor common room.

No longer being on your feet had your eyes feeling even more heavy, hands resting upon the chest of the figure. “Thought you could manage to make a fast one on me, love?” Draco’s voice hummed down to you as he carried you gently through the halls of Hogwarts. You batted your eyes up at him, a soft grin tugging onto your lips. You giggled once more, snuggling up close to his chest with a loud smack of your lips.

“I missed you too, Draco,” you hummed gently, his pace slowing at the sound of your words. You felt him swallow harshly, the beating in his chest jumping. You were sure if you could see straight, his face would be a tomato, too.

“Oh, you must be so far gone, love,” he chuckled, trying to rid the words from his mind. You patted your hand against his peck, hiccupping physically yourself.

“That-That would be correct,” you nodded rapidly, fluttering your eyelashes out of boredom. “A very accurate ass...assese.. assessment, Mr. Malfoy,” you slurred, the words having difficulty passing through your brain as Draco chuckled, looking down at you tucked to his chest.

“You’re beautiful, you stupid, silly ditz, y/n,” he’d blurted out the words faster than he could think. Though not influenced by alcohol, it was his own consciousness that was tripping him up. You grinned up at him, shaking your head while your fingers fumbled with the folds of his vest as a distraction.

“And you’re a spoiled, little princess, what else is new, Draco Malfoy?” you blurted right back, losing the feeling in your neck as your head fell back in a loud squeal. Draco had to quickly maneuver his hold to assure you didn’t fall, cursing under his breath as he squeezed you closer. “Sorry!” You laughed, pressing your hand to your lips to muffle the pleasing humor. Just hearing your laugh made him grin, an annoyed chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh, oh!” You were pointing down the hall, hazy brows pulled together as you passed the Hufflepuff corridor. “Hey Malfoy, you missed the turn, dummy,” you informed him critically, a smirk pulling at the edge of his brims while he rolled those icy blue orbs.

“Quiet down, l/n!” He whisper-shouted down at you, turning the corner towards Slytherin while you groaned dramatically. “I know where I’m going, quit it with the pointless theatrics,” he rolled his eyes down at you again, soft features creating a stirring expression inside of your gut. Something you weren’t going to ignore in your condition.

“Why are you being nice? We hate each other, Draco,” you clarified, still messing with the fabric of his fancy vest. Draco cleared his throat, clenching his jaw tight with straightened shoulders.

“I don’t hate you, y/n,” he breathed through a hushed sigh, tearing his eyes from you at the admission. You scoffed sarcastically, rolling your head back on his chest to gaze up at him.

“That’s crap, Malfoy,” you retorted, shaking your head. “I want to hate you,” you admitted without giving yourself time to consider choice words. Draco nodded, not even phased by your truth.

“I know, I know, y/n,” he agreed, feet carrying him towards the Slytherin portrait. You felt his carelessness upset you, tugging the side of his vest to catch his gaze down towards you.

“No,” you declared, firm eyes holding themselves strict. “No, you don’t know... Actually, I don’t want to do this right now, I want to go back to Hufflepuff,” you protested, swallowing the emotions that attempted to break from the rational part of you that declared justice for your pain.

“I’d like to see that. You can’t even bloody stand on your own right now. You need my help,” he taunted, a mocking tone causing your stomach to twist as you dropped your head because you knew he was right. Draco recanted mentally, closing his eyes for a moment as he climbed through the entrance after uttering the password. “I... I wrote to you over holiday.”

You nodded, the memory of his note buried under your pillow. “I didn’t read it,” you admitted bitterly, watching the familiar walls of Slytherin’s common room pass. He felt a ping in his ribcage. “Good holiday?” You asked, a polite instinct you let slip as Draco led you up the dormitory stairs.

Draco chuckled, sighing heavily. “Would it make you feel any better to believe I had an awful holiday?” Cleverly, he worded it as though it wasn’t the truth to keep the ominous fraud in place. You rolled your eyes up at him, thwacking your fingers against his chest.

“Sadly, that does not help whatsoever,” you answered, shrugging your shoulders while bobbing your head to each step up. “You plagued mine,” you whispered in response, grinding your teeth.

Draco paused right outside his own dormitory, which was still empty, noticing your own shame. “And you’re suffocating, intoxicating self is so easy to disregard?” He figured he was safe because you were bound to forget, and he was probably right considering you hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on. You could really be passed out on the cold floor of Gryffindor’s common room right now and just having another damned dream of Draco.

“You thought about me?” You asked eagerly, wide eyes catching you stiff in surprise as Draco kicked open the door and carried you to his own bed. He cleared off the bed with a swift wave of his arm, shifting you at just the right angle and by some weird gesture, you fell flat into his lap as he lost his balance and sunk into the bed. You were now in his lap, legs draped on either side of him, pressed into his chest by your own unbalance. Draco stared up at you, the space thin between both of you while you sat holding your breath. One of your hands had fallen to his shoulder while the other braced yourself against his chest. His hand remained on your back and the other propped himself up on the bed.

“I thought about you, more than I bloody care to admit,” he breathed after an intense moment exchanged in just your gaze and the heat between you that ignited when you shifted into his lap. Your fingers locked around his collar, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes searched his own.

“Don’t do that,” Draco groaned in a soft breath, his hold on your back tightening you to his chest. You raised a brow, relaxing down into his lap.

“Do what?” You asked, releasing your bottom lip with fingertips grazing the side of his throat. You felt him setting off life inside every inch of you that was close to him, a hunger you’d buried deep inside was surfacing. You sank down onto his lap and listened to the sound of his breath hitching in his throat.

“You’re drunk, y/n,” he breathed the words with difficulty, his throat dry and pulse quickening. You were drunk, to say the least. Your hands had a mind of their own as you used his collar to draw him into your body even closer. The liquor was giving you all the confidence you needed, even helping you glide your hips against his lap.

“And?” You bowed your head into the crook of his neck, lips pressing delicate but intimate kisses into the soft skin as you trailed up closer to his jaw. Draco’s head fell back in a generous groan, supporting himself while his hands snaked around your waist to rest just under your ass. You could feel the excitement through his pants, sitting deeper down into the bulge you could feel dominantly between your legs.

“Y/n,” Draco groaned out your name, a smirk playing on your lips as you tugged gently on his earlobe. He gave your ass a squeeze and you gasped, just beside his ear, still moving your hips in tender circular motions over his pants.

“Yes, Draco?” You breathed, hands moving around the back of his neck to fiddle your fingers into his strands. Draco’s breathing was off, his mind on fire with your teasing grind against him, he was about to throw rationality out the window. His hands moved to squeeze your sides, tracing the length just over your spine as you arched to follow the guide of his palm.

“You’re pissed, you don’t want this,” Draco clarified, your lips now covering the rim of his jaw with soft pecks. You nodded, guiding your lips back up towards his ear.

“Maybe not,” you agreed, a soft moan hidden in your words while your hips quickened a deep pace over his pants. “But I need you,” Draco was losing it, unable to control the raging excitement now poking your teasing movements. Draco grasped your hips tightly, a quick move pressing you into the bed and hovering just above you, still sunk between your legs. He stared down at you, his hand tracing over your cheek and down to your chin, where his thumb moved to softly and slowly caress your lips. You stared up at him with an equal amount of lust, waiting until he was ready to pull away before pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking it playfully with a wicked grin. Draco groaned again, bowing his head into your own chest where he remained for just a moment.

“No,” Draco tried to pull himself free but your legs wrapped around his waist to tug him tight back to the space between your legs. You reached up and linked your hands just around his neck to keep him near.

“What’s wrong, Draco? Still so scared of me?” you teased, stroking your hand across his cheek with a sloppy smirk. Draco rolled his eyes.

“You’re wasted, love,” he declared obviously, using his hand to break your hold around the back of his neck and instead, place your hands at your sides resentfully. “Look at me,” you obeyed, loosening your feet cuff around his abdomen while meeting his resistant and regretful eyes.

“What, you don’t like me anymore? I really try to be good enough--” your feelings were hurt, but you were also heavily compromised by the evening’s events. You couldn’t control the emotion expressed in a simple whisper, blinking away a tearful daze in your eyes. Draco sighed, shaking his head rapidly while shushing you with his hand cupped your cheek. 

“It’s not that, love... I won’t do this when you’re not in the right mind, please understand. You need rest, we can talk in the morning,” Draco ran his hand through your hair, tucking the stray strands behind your ear. You were puzzled, admitting that the comfort from the mattress seemed to be making your eyes heavy.

“Just a few moments to rest,” you nodded drowsily, lightly tugging your face from his touch. Draco grinned down at you, then climbed off and sorted through the clothes in his dresser until he removed a black shirt. You were already turning, trying to find a comfortable position in his bed as he returned to your side.

“Come here,” he whispered, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. You blinked a single eye up at him, reaching out your hand. He pulled you up, slipping the shirt over your head and then through your arms one at a time, without removing your dress. 

He’d seen you in less, but knew sober you would be upset if he undressed you. Draco pulled back the comforter sheets and you were nearly sleeping by the time your head hit the pillow. If not for Draco brushing his fingers through your hair, admiring you for a moment before standing up and moving to retrieve a spare pillow. He was already making a small space on the floor for himself when you caught his hand.

“Stay with me?” You asked him, batting through squinted eyes with the inability to properly open your heavy hues. Draco nodded silently as you pulled open the blanket and scooted over, he tossed his clothes to the floor and just wore a pair of comfy pants to bed as he slid in beside you, hesitantly. You pulled yourself up onto his bare chest, your head laying on his shoulder while his arm draped around your backside. 

He was so warm, you thought you’d gone and wrapped yourself in the furnace. Draco was always cold himself, but when he was with you, everything was an odd comfort. You didn’t mind him being shirtless, favoring the exposed pale skin of his chest as even more heat flushed through your embrace. You hummed gently, practically sprawled across your own personal heater as he gently stroked the back of your head, bringing the blankets tighter around your side. The hum from your throat made his mind melt, not even being in need of sleep, but just from being so calm with you here, he was feeling more exhausted.

You didn’t say anything. He had wanted to hear your voice for months, but right now, he was content with the bliss sound of your somber, slumbered breaths. Draco gave himself a moment after you had fallen asleep, dropping his head down upon your own. He allowed the pleasant scent of your natural presence to bless his nostrils, granting him even more solace.

He didn’t want to sleep, he’d rather be in the moment, appreciating every waking second of having you this content and at peace. He knew there was much to follow this second of the uttermost exchange of tranquility, but he was losing all worry. He was in the midst of your amity, your presence known clearly by every sense and every nerve in his body. He felt safe, if he was to be honest with himself, sleep threatening to overwhelm his conscious mind at your suffocating serenity.

He gave himself another waking minute to accustom himself to your beauty, grinning privately to himself. Sleep then took him prisoner to the soothing, ameliorate and immense alleviation granted to his solicitude of solidarity only by your existence in his arms at this very moment.  
Your head was pounding, making you stir in your sleep with a soft groan. You felt your body trying to wake up without you. You didn’t want to wake up, feeling as though it would hurt much worse than a lousy headache once you faced reality. Your mind felt like it was melting inside your skull, thumping rapidly emitted behind your eyes which slowly started to flutter open. You shut them immediately, a wave of annoyant pain ricocheting through your heavy head, forcing your face back into the pillow. Your senses were finally acknowledging the reality of your environment, practically breathing in Draco as his presence was everywhere. Everything from the soft sheets to the pristine pillows, he was so ignorantly precise at polluting all of your sensations at once. You were coming back to life, feeling returning in sore and seemingly unfamiliar limbs while attempting to reconstruct the faintly unclear prior evening. You held your breath to brace yourself, slowly sitting up onto your side and propping your arms just below you, failing really to support yourself while relying on the solid oak headboard. 

Your eyes were clouded, digging your palms into your eye sockets to try and clear your vision just as you glanced down at the black Slytherin tee that now occupied your upper half. You pulled your weighty head upwards to take in the rest of the empty room, blinking while massaging your temples deeply, the familiarity from last term making your hands clammy. It was surely Draco’s dormitory, the other beds remaining neat and empty. Your first instinct was to get out, but you really didn’t want to move. Why did everything hurt? You slid your rear to the side of the bed, letting your feet hang off the edge, just as your worst-case scenario slipped through the door. 

Draco’s eyes widened seeing you awake, sitting there and blinking up at him through messy, chaotic strands. He quietly shut the door behind him, a tray balanced in his hands as he came to your side, placing the tray down beside both of you. He sat opposite of you, still saying nothing while avoiding your hesitantly expectant stare. He simply removed a small teacup from the tray and delivered it into your palm. You silently sipped from the porcelain rim, cowering yourself under Draco’s stare as well. You didn’t want to speak with him, nor did you want to be around him. The last thing you wanted was to be back in his bed. 

“Have you got the time?” You finally asked, a raspy tone clearing from your voice as you brought your gaze up to meet Draco’s eyes. He glanced down towards the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. 

“Quarter past six,” he answered, watching the shock unravel on your eyes while brushing your sloppy strands into more of a manageable mess at your shoulders. You replaced the teacup on the tray, eyes shooting open with disbelief. 

“In the morning?” You asked, moving on the mattress to glance out the stained glass window beside his bed. Draco stifled a chuckle, shaking his head while watching you, a slight tilt to his head. 

“In the evening, actually,” your gaze caught a glimpse of the sun setting just over the mountaintop and you sunk into his mattress, allowing yourself to fall completely down across the width of his bed, covering your face with your hands. Draco watched in subtle amusement while a groan muffled through your hands. 

“You let me sleep through the entire day? And the others? They must be so worried,” you sighed, pulling yourself back up and finally to your feet as Draco outstretched a hand, watching you stumble momentarily. 

“I had tried to wake you earlier, but you weren’t having it. They’re fine, you should eat something,” Draco offered, motioning down to the biscuits and small sandwich on the tray he’d swiped from the great hall. You pursed your lips into a thin line, shaking your head with a single step to the side. 

“I’m okay, really, I should go,” you wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Draco rose to his feet as well, a step backwards to block your advance. You avoided his gaze, hands clutching tightly to your arms as they crossed over your chest. Standing, the shirt barely reached your mid thigh, revealing your entire lower half with the dress clenched near your center. “What is it to you anyways, Malfoy?”

“You aren’t well, you had a very strenuous evening,” Draco explained, holding his hand out to you. You shoved it away immediately. 

“I don’t care, Draco, I want to leave,” you tried to push past him again, forcing your eyes closed as a smirk began to form on Draco’s lips. 

“If I may, why might that be, love?” You wanted to punch the smirk occupying his brims, hands falling into clenched fists at your side. Draco raised a brow, taking a step towards you as you attempted to brush past him. 

“Don’t start, Malfoy. I’m leaving,” You rolled your eyes, hand on his shoulder to push past, instantly regretting it as he used your contact to his advantage. He simply spun you back into the center of the room, keeping his position between you and the door. You narrowed your eyes as they skeptically followed his step back towards you. 

“Come on, what is your hurry? Scared you won’t be able to resist yourself?” You laughed aloud, shaking your head. Draco’s face was crowded with amusement, aggravating you even more as the slight expression was able to sink pure irritation under your skin. 

“You’re unbelievable. Is that what you think happened last night? I was pissed, Draco, I didn’t know what was going on,” you clarified, whacking him across the side of his neatly combed hair. “What will it take for you to get that through that hollow head of yours? Whatever pathetic excuse for anything ‘this’ was, is over and done with. Did you need me to write it out?” You were losing your temper, flashes from your last fight with Draco strangling your ability to remain serene. “Dead and gone, Draco. A thing of the past. Just history-- Let me be,” you reached out and shoved his shoulder backwards, stepping past him just as he flooded his frame against the door to once again prevent your leave. 

“Perhaps you were just being honest.” Draco shrugged, still hung up on the current reality of what you may or may not have said last night. You tried to shoo him out of the way, your hand clenched on the doorknob. You would hold this to Elle, who convinced you that you did not need your wand when attending the party. 

“Unlikely,” you hissed, your hold on the door keeping you closer than you’d like to be to Draco. You dropped it and took a few steps back to find your balance. “I don’t even remember it, how delusional must you be to believe that means it’s real?”

“Really? Why don’t you prove it?” He followed you backwards, a taunting dare on his tongue that made your skin crawl with internal confoundment, your fists turning white at your sides while Draco followed you backwards. “Prove you can control yourself around me.” 

“You’re rather foolish to assume I have anything to prove to you,” you hissed right back, rubbing your hands over your face with a loud huff. “I’m not doing this again, Draco. We’re done here, I’m leaving.” You declared again, taking a step beside him that he immediately met with his own side step. You were ready to walk through him rather than find a way around him. “Draco, if you do not move, I will--” 

“And you regret it, do you not? Ending our fun before it really even began, quite selfish,” he sighed, quickly closing the space as his eyes lit up with excitement, begging you to continue, sarcastically. “What? You are in my quarters, if anything, you should be apologizing rather than making those weak threats of yours, little puff.” You ignored the skipped beat in your chest, a twinge of familiarity and foulness in his ‘sweet’ nickname for you. If you really cared to examine it, he used it as a way to belittle you, with no respect for Hufflepuff whatsoever. 

“No, you dumb git, I do not regret any of it,” you placed your hand under his chin, cupping the sides of his jaws. “If you do not move, this dashing little foul face of yours will be met with a proper and warranted stomping, Malfoy. I’m sick of you.” In the matter of the slight touch upon his chin, Malfoy managed to clutch your forearm and free his face, but in the same motion, pulling your arm to crash your fame against his front. Your knees went weak, forced to clutch the buttons of his shirt in order to balance yourself below him. You tried pulling away, but Draco’s fingers gently brushed up the length of your arm and your body became putty in his grip, basically dissolving against his body paired with the inability to breath properly. 

“Positive there, love? Your body seems to be betraying you,” he bowed his head down to your own, free hand sneaking up the length of your side. You weren’t breathing now, air bubbled in your chest while feeling his hand glide delicately up from your side, just over your breast, up past your collar and then finally locking around your throat. There was a very familiar wetness pulsing between your thighs, even with you clenching them tighter in attempts to ease the tension that built from the imperishable lust that exploded from your core. Your head seemed to fall back in his hand, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to silence the yearning pleasure some simple, stupid movement brought about. 

“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” you gasped, his hand tenderly tightening around your throat. He smirked, dragging you even closer to him, a deviant devilish distress occurring in the obvious bulge in his pants. He leaned down beside your cheek, letting his lips brush the soft arch of your cheekbone. 

“Be my guest, y/n,” Draco whispered into your skin, the invitation breaking all will-power you had to control yourself and succumbing to Draco Malfoy all over again. His words sent flickers of flooding passion through every cell in your body, surrendering to his seduction in the next flammable heartbeat. Your hand shot out to his collar, not giving him a moment after the words left his lips before dragging him down to your lips in a rather powerful jerk.

You kissed Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bum-Bum-BUM. I know, I'm so sorry for cutting it right at the good point. You kissed Draco Malfoy? Gosh, after everything he put you through, what are you thinking? What did you think? I really hope you liked it! Please keep leaving comments and kudos, it's amazing to know my writing is reaching people! I love hearing from you, I read all your comments and love each and every one of you! Much love, as always! Maybe you'll see this next chapter sooner ...?


	8. Empty Emerald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after the Gryffindor party, you wake up in Draco's bed. You both have unfinished business with one another, but not the same business. You want answers, Draco just wants you. At what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 8! Those of you waiting for it, here is your SMUT WARNING! Let me know what your thoughts are! Love you, happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Neither you nor Draco had any intention of stopping, or slowing down. You were both already ahead of yourselves, his hands diving down your sides as your own lost themselves in the depths of his long, platinum locks. Your inability to keep your hands off one another was clear, his fists tearing the fabric of his own tee from your frame. You gasped, hasty fingers wrestling with the buttons of his shirt to free his torso. You slipped the remainder of his rigid, ripped t-shirt edges from your own body, leaving his lips for a minor moment too long, Draco impatiently wrenching you back to his lips by the back of your neck. You both knew you weren’t moving fast enough. Hungry, heaving lips ignorant to the involuntary inferno plunged in the center of your lungs. He tasted like mint, a humorous hint of apple leaving his tongue as it swiped against your own in the wetness of your mouth. The smallest fibers in your bones ignited with a burning blaze that craved every ounce of Draco Malfoy intensely and immediately. 

Draco’s hands fumbled with the back zipper of your dress whilst yours were already slipping the belt from his pants and tossing it aside. He kissed you hard, you could feel the hate inside of you demanding more from him which he answered by simply tearing the zipper apart and letting it fall loosely from your tight figure. You exhaled into his mouth, shoving the notice that you’d be responsible for Elle’s now ruined dress to the back of your mind, your sole focus was having Draco. Now. 

You stood against his frame in just your bra and patnies, thanking the pre-party you for at least letting the set match in deep moss, lace fabric. Draco lifted you by a hard grasp on your sides, your bare legs wrapping around the hot skin of his abdomen. You dragged your body firmly against his, arms locking a tight hold around his neck. You allowed your teeth to fall against his bottom brim whilst he released a pleasurable groan in response. 

Draco could play your teasing game. He unlocked your legs from around him and tossed you into the depths of the mattress. You almost bounced while relaxing into the comfort of his bed, an unintentional squeal escaping you just as Draco pulled you by your ankles to the edge of the sheets. You tried to sit up to pull him back to you, the absence of his lips on yours felt like a loss of breath in your lungs, but Draco’s hand lowered you back into the mattress. The tray he’d brought with your dinner clanged against the floor, but neither of you heard it. 

“Draco…” you whined gently under your breath as he fell to his knees before you, pressing a kiss to your ankle while his hands trailed over the length of your legs and over your knees, then up your thighs. He squeezed your thigh and you moaned a whimper, the pain feeling as purely pleasure while he slid your panties from your hips and tossed them aside as well. Your heart was ramming out of your chest, feeling his lips on your knee and then further up into your inner thigh. Your back arched into the surface of his sheets, moving to bite your finger to muffle the sounds leaving you. His tongue lapped at your soft skin, tracing soft swirls as he approached your center. He paused, sucking harshly on the sensitive skin on your thighs while messaging the other with his digits, teasing a slight brush against your folds that caused your mind to melt inside your head. He bit your thigh and you slapped your hand tightly over your mouth, Draco peering just over your hips as he reached a free hand to pull from your lips. 

“I want to hear you scream for me, love,” he snickered deviantly, tongue tracking itself from your thigh to your core. You gasped again, not minding your volume as his lips pressed a gentle kiss into the moist folds of your core, Draco’s tongue drawing itself across your entrance. It was heaven and hell in one, the sweet dive of his tongue laced a climax that was already begging for release inside you. One of your hands fisted into the sheets, nails digging into the cotton fabric while the opposite found his hair. You moaned deeper aloud when his digits spread you open, Draco pulling back for a moment to spit inside of you. You let out a pleasurable cry, yanking harder on the strands of his hair. 

You were sure your moans and sounds were echoing off the walls at this point, shivers down your spine had your entire body trembling. Your toes curled, trying your hardest to hold on just a bit longer when he started to suck at your clit, tongue repeatedly tapping against your sensitive spot. You hummed another loud moan, not giving you a moment to catch your breath before sinking a finger inside of you. Your breath became sharply stuck in your throat, hips meeting each of his most pleasing pulses inside you. “Malfoy, Fuck!” You cried, head thrown back as he granted you another finger, plunging the set in gentle curls as deep as he could. 

“Good girl, not yet,” he cautioned, watching you unravel in delighted amusement. You were ecstatic under him, lips returning to lap and suck harder on your clit with his fingers still pumping faster inside of you. His non-occupied hand slithering up your stomach to latch onto your breast and you wrapped your hand around his arm, nails piercing his skin to support yourself. 

“Please, Draco…” you begged, gasping harder as your body tensed, bracing the climax that was beginning to smother you. Draco raised, returning to your lips while he kept his fingers inside of you, his lips pressing down to yours. You moaned against his rough kiss, intensity boiling over through the addictive fever that sweltered in the pulsing throbs inside you. 

He smirked, running his tongue over the base of your teeth while you laid under him, almost convulsing in waves of excitement and satisfaction. “You may,” he allowed you to cum, and you did not hesitate. You blacked out for a moment, sure you’d actually screamed in shaky satisfaction as Draco granted you climax. The wave was already breaking through the barrier between your legs as you grasped the sides of his face, arching up into him while panting harshly. He brought his fingers out from inside of you, sucking them clean himself as you watched in a glistened lust, the odd familiar gesture making you squirm in desire.

His hand then moved to your cheek, a hesitant moment of what appeared to be genuine passion exchanged in a simple glance. You were convinced you were seeing things you wanted to see, his finger hesitantly brushing over the soft duvet on your bottom brim. He leaned down and kissed your lips, cupping your cheek and drawing you closer. You matched his tender embrace, deepening the kiss before Draco pulled away to mutter against your lips. 

“I need you,” his words danced through your ears, a stirring inside your stomach tried to slap you conscious, but you ignored it. You nodded your head, fingers flooding down his chest and down between your bodies to undo his pants.

“Then have me, Malfoy,” You whispered back, reaching up to kiss his lips again. He didn’t hesitate this time. He kissed you hard, pressing your head back into the pillow with a forceful, needy kiss while you both worked at disrobing his lower section. You brought your hands to comb through his locks again, suffocating yourself with his dominating, aggressive caress. Draco brought himself to your core and once again, chose to tease your bosom. He gently massaged himself against your folds and your hold in his hair tightened to pull your lips free. He smirked down at you, watching the nerves behind your eyes unwind in a heated fever that had your chest stammering drawn-out puffs. He slid himself up and down the dampened distress between your legs, deriding your mind of any and all sense while Draco attempted to fall back to your lips. You stopped him, your fists still locked in the mop of his hair, your hips struggling to meet his in a obligatory demand for Draco. You met his eyes and he wrestled his head free to meet your lips once more, finally granting your prayers while diving his length deep inside you. 

You let out an unraveling whimper against his lips, your own hips eagerly responding with every tempoed thrust against his pelvis. Draco was not sweet, conquered by his own desire as he maneuvered your leg atop his shoulder to grant himself more room to plunge himself deeper and quicker inside of you. Your hands braced themselves to his shoulders, nails digging into the firm features of his shoulders, moans erupting from your throat. Draco pinned you deeper into the bed, his head falling into the base of your neck to muffle his own pleasurable groans, barely audible over the sounds of your own moans. You grabbed your ankle and drew it even further down to you, Draco’s lips covering your collar with kisses and sucking on the sweet duvet of your collar bone. Your mind was on fire again, in addition to the rest of your body. You missed this feeling, being completely vulnerable and selfishly exploited by every insensible nerve inside you that demanded Draco. It was addictive, or he was, more or less. 

You were approaching your next climax, short breaths and ghastly moans throwing your head back into an arch as you pulled Draco closer to you. You used this advantage to roll him over so you now straddled his hips, hands propped on his chest to support your frame as you bounced up and down his length. Draco’s wide eyes relaxed, pleasure pleasing every movement of your hips as they grinded in just the right way to elicit groans from the depths of his throat. His hands gripped your sides hard, forcefully assisting your frame deeper down onto his lap. He sat up to kiss your lips, one hand tangling into the knots in your long hair while the other snuck around your back to unclip your bra, ripping it off your shoulders to free your breasts. Draco’s lips found your breasts, your muscles going limp while your head dropped back, overcome by loud gasps. Your arm wrapped around his neck again to keep him in place while you were riding him, dangerous dips deep into his length. He wrestled to flip you over once more, instead landing you both on the floor. 

You both laughed, sprawled across the cold stone floor now beside his bed, you honestly didn’t even recognize the cold. During the fall, Draco had managed to pin you to the solid ground of his room, his arm beside your head used to hover over you as well as keep you still so that he may thrust harder against your hips. You wrapped your hand around his arm to support yourself, moving your pelvis against his own as he continued to suck and massage on your breasts. You were breathless, sounds vibrating off the walls as you both neared finishing.

“Malfoy…” you moaned out his name as a warning, you were going to cum whether or not he was done with you. Draco squeezed your breasts harshly and you whimpered beneath him while he returned to your lips, his own movements seeming to stutter as he kissed you hard. That was his own warning, his one hand slid under you to gather you close to him, the other intertwining with your own just above your head. You were unable to hold back, the tension in your core causing you to crush his hand in ruthless surrender to your inner apex. 

You both came the next moment, a hesitant parting thrust against your hips locked Draco against you as you both released reverberant relief in loud, pleasurous tones of a fiery finale. Your sounds were definitely louder than his own, but the pause against your lips which resonated his final groan raked through your entire body with pride. Draco let himself fall into your chest, burying his own face in the crown of your neck while catching his breath. You didn’t pull your fingers from his own immediately, panting heavily while your free hand stroked soft fingers through his strands. You stared up at the ceiling, exhaustion and satisfaction draining your suddenly weary and tiresome features. Draco had begun to trail his lips up your neck, placing peaceful pecks into your skin, which allowed a tranquil serenity to begin dragging you off into a doze. He was at your jaw, pressing kisses to your cheek and just beside your ear. It was the sound of his breathing which soothed you back to sleep, a slumber sounding out the words he whispered just as you fell asleep. 

You just needed a moment to rest, not even noticing that you’d actually fallen asleep until your eyes fluttered open in the dim-light of his room once more. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten off the floor, but were now nuzzled under the sheets of his bed. The next thing you noticed was the warmth surrounding your backside and Draco’s arm hanging from your waist while he breathed calm, slumbered breaths into your hair. He’d put on a pair of trousers, which you thanked him mentally for, but you were still naked. You took a moment to grant yourself the comfort from being tucked to his chest, the overwhelming cozy feeling of being snug to the chest of Draco Malfoy. Then you allowed the events to stab you through the gut as you faced the cruel reality; you slept with Draco Malfoy again. 

How could you let this happen again? You needed to get out of there, Draco was right, you weren’t able to control yourself around him. But it wasn’t a choice, it was the desire of this foolish soulmate bond that relentlessly bidding you right back to him. What time was it? You tried to tilt your head to find Draco’s watch but failed, the hand wrapped around your side was bare. You hoped Elle and Cedric were not plastering the halls with missing photos yet. They were going to kill you. How could you be so foolish? You carefully removed the blanket from around you and gently moved his hand from around you, hoping to make a fast escape before he woke up. When you slowly sat up, you glanced back at Draco’s sleeping frame. For just the fraction of a heartbeat, you let yourself take in his calm features whilst he slept peacefully. He looked so harmless, so innocent, you were a bigger fool than you could imagine. Draco’s words from last year, everything he said, what he did, he was far from harmless and you’d found yourself in his bed once more. You peeled your frame out of his bed, shaking the thought as you tip-toed silently to the mess of clothes on the floor. 

Only then did you remember Draco had actually broken the zipper on Elle’s emerald silk dress, she was actually going to kill you now. You mentally cursed the bloke who remained asleep, slipping on your bra and panties while fumbling through the clothes. You sighed, really not having many other options as you wanted to get out of there immediately. You shoved your arms through the button-down he’d previously been wearing, buttoning it most of the way. You looked everywhere for your slippers, tilting your head under his bed and around the remainder of the furniture. You cursed under your breath, just as Draco cleared his throat. 

He was sitting up against the headboard, knee folded up to reveal the remainder of his stiff torso as his eyes watched you with flickers of amusement. “Something I might be able to help you find before you try to make a rather evident escape, y/n?” You winced, pulling the hem of his shirt down further over your thighs as you turned to face him. You hated the lump in your throat that formed seeing him smirk like that.

“Did I have my slippers last night?” You asked him, genuinely confused. Draco shrugged his shoulders, head tilting as he was no longer paying to what you were saying. His gaze found itself impressed over the angles of your body revealed in just his ill-fitting button down. You snapped your fingers out in front of him as he climbed out of bed. “Hey, you irritating, annoying arse! My slippers?” You called again, this time, less patient. 

“My apologies, love, I was a bit preoccupied assuring you didn’t hurt yourself to really keep track of your silly slippers,” Draco clarified, stalking slightly closer to you. You pressed your hand against your head with a loud sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“I never asked you to,” you pointed out, folding your arms across your bust while trying not to focus on him too much. Then it struck you. “But you did… Something tells me it was out of more than just the goodness of your heart, Draco.”

“Please love, we both know I haven’t got a heart, let alone a reason to be good to you,” he snickered cruelly. It was difficult to not take offense to his words, watching the careless amusement play against his denial. You took a dangerous step forward, tilting your head so you could catch his eyes. 

“I don’t believe that,” you whispered gently, outstretching a hand meant to caress his cheek as he maneuvered away from your touch. You scoffed, recanting your hand to your side. “Are you trying to push me away again, Draco? Is that what this is to you? You get what you want, so now you can pretend it meant nothing to you, until you need me again? Then it becomes a different story, doesn’t it, Draco?” You knew it was true without the look exasperating his features which tugged downwards. 

“Believe what you want,” he replied through an annoyed sigh, walking past you to get to his dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt and handed it to you. “Take this one, it’s longer.” You accepted indecisively, turning around to grant yourself a dime of privacy while pulling the buttons undone again and quickly swapping into his t-shirt that stretched down closer to cover your thighs. “You deny me, yet know me so well, love? It’s rather adorable, but yes, it meant nothing. Bloody hell, it is always so much fun with you, though.” 

A hole in your stomach made you nauseous, the pain returning with the memories of familiar words he’d spoken before. You recalled the judgement he’d passed on you, recognizing the hurt that you felt in this moment while hearing him speak those words all over again. He’d tormented you the exact same way just a few months ago, and here you stood, letting it happen again. 

You cleared your throat, forcing all of it back down, the threat of having Draco belittle you again because of your emotions was unnerving. “You’re right. This was a mistake, I was obviously still out of it and my judgement was clouded,” You pushed past him, forgetting about your slippers and gathering what was left of Elle’s dress from the floor. Draco chuckled at your tangible lie. 

“A rather far-fetched excuse, but if it helps you cope with what we both know you wanted, I won’t stop you,” you slid to a stop in your tracks towards his door. You had no idea what it was that prevented you from just ignoring him and walking away, even with your hand on the doorknob. 

“It’s the truth!” You called back, spinning around to face him once more. “You think you’re irresistible Draco, but it’s not you, it’s this stupid soulmate bond,” you clarified, eyes narrowing in plausible disgust as you placed your hands upon your hips to ground your stance. Draco replied with a snicker, leaning against the footboard of his bed with a side-smirk returning to his features. 

“No, it was sex, little puff--” you didn’t let the words finish leaving his lips, feet carrying you directly into his space to cut him off. 

“Driven by nothing more than miserable, lousy lust because of what we are! This won’t happen again,” your control on your volume was slipping with your temper, waiting until his arms crossed over his chest to use his poor balance as leverage. You shoved him backwards and as you hoped, he stumbled back onto the bed while you made a second attempt for the exit. 

“But of course, it will,” he chimed, an ill-hearted recovery from the bed as his hands folded behind his head. Why did you stop again? Why were you playing into his game? You were so close, you could have just left him to his own loathing insecurities, but you stopped again to try and inflict some kind of reality check on his ego. 

“No, Draco! You can’t-- No, I won’t do this!” You yelled, watching him ease onto his feet once more, meeting your fierce figure in the center of his dormitory once again. “Not again. I gave you more than enough of a chance last term--” your voice was cracking, the memories drowning your mind again. That bloody cupboard, this bloody wanker, you despised all of it and being suffocated by the echo of his truth that day stabbed a soreness in your chest, especially when he dared to interrupt. 

“This is not the same thing,” he tried, but you yelled over his measly attempt to find a difference. This would be identical to what happened before, for the most part, it was. You’ve done this, been here, made your peace and had it broken, it needed to stop. 

“Of course it is! You want me in private but refuse to allow me into your heart,” you weren’t sure when the tear had fallen, but it fell from the rim of your jaw and made Draco drift in discomfort. He didn’t like watching you cry, it wasn’t the same as others, he didn’t feel powerful, he felt responsible. 

“I haven’t got a--” he tried again, eyes averting your own sorrowful gaze. You realized you were crying and quickly wiped the back of your hand against your cheek, a poor attempt at hiding it. 

“That’s a lie, Draco! You’ve got a heart and I’ve seen it. What happened at the World Cup? Was I imagining your help when the death eaters attacked?” You took another step forward, twisting your figure so you could catch his eyes in their desperate aversion. He cursed at the memory under his breath, a part of him hoping you’d just forgotten. “Caring will not kill you, Draco. Please,” you begged, reaching a hand to his cheek once more. This time, he did not pull away immediately. You could have sworn his head dipped into your hand as you caressed his stone skin, thumb brushing over the softness of his cold cheekbone. “Let me in, and we can--”

“I can’t!” he cut you off, his tone raised as Draco snatched your hand away from his cheek and walked past you. You let him, closing your eyes as more tears rounded the rims of your eyes. You bit your lip to avoid crying out, back facing him to try to maintain your dignity. 

“No. You won’t, there is a difference! You won’t try because you are scared of what having me close will mean, it doesn’t have to--” you stated, trying to vacant the amount of emotion buried in your voice. Draco threw his hands up, causing you to turn around as he was suddenly right in front of you. His eyes were warped with infuriated anger and resent. 

“Enough, alright! No! No, I am not scared. No, I do not care for you nor will I permit myself to try and capitulate to something like it. This was just sex, as it always has been.” Draco declared, disregarding the tears that streamed down your face. You held yourself, you didn’t bow or cower under his volume or rage, you bit your tongue and straightened your shoulders. With everything inside you, you wouldn’t let him know he could hurt you so easily. He relaxed once he finished, a recollection shaping his gaze as he realized he’d lost his temper there. 

You gathered in a sharp breath, nodding in forced agreement. “Then you will let me go. This time, for real.” You compromised, hand placed upon his shoulder to nudge him out of your way. You brushed your fingers across your eyes to rid the tears, deep inhales and exhales carrying you back to the door. 

Draco swore in an irked sigh, hurrying after you. “Wait, I…” He slammed his palm against the door just as you pulled it open, causing it to crash closed once more. You jumped, Draco’s head bowing just behind your shoulder. He was almost pressed into your back, but you froze in place, gnawing on the inside of your lip. He remained silent while trying to deliver the truth from inside the denial of his desolation. “I can’t give you what they can... You say I won’t, but the truth is that I can’t… But…,” the ‘they’ he had been referring to was Cedric and George, after jealously watching your interactions with both. 

He lifted the hand from the door and used it to guide your cheek around to face him again. You were speechless, he wasn’t finished, but he was genuine. You fully believed he was speaking from something but his own egotistical arse right now. He let his hand remain on your cheek, still fumbling with the words before just giving in. Draco caught your lips in a deep kiss, it was not controlled by lust or covet. This singular kiss was strangely new because it originated from pure passion, no sexual desire hidden behind his lips in this moment. His eyes remained closed, space still thin between you as he whispered, “I can’t do as you demand and let you go either. I need you, y/n.” Your heart was most definitely beating out of your chest, exploding loudly in your ribcage as you stared at this now vulnerable little boy. You reached a hand up to comb his white strands from his eyes, letting it linger against the side of his head. 

“Let me in, I beg of you,” you whispered back, turning your own hand to press a kiss into his palm. He didn’t move, sigh tracing out from parted brims. You raised your hand with his head. “Look at me,” you begged softly, Draco refusing to immediately, a moment passing before granting your gaze with his own indigo iris. You leaned his forehead down, pressing yourself up onto the tips of your toes in order to reach better. Draco bowed his head at your gesture, letting his forehead fall to your lips as you tenderly emitted a soft kiss into his skin, lips hovering so you could whisper, “I won't hurt you, Draco.” 

The door slammed open and you both jumped ten feet apart. “Malfoy!” Crabbe called just as Cedric and Elle bursted into the room, Crabbe trailing just a few feet behind. “I tried to stop them--” Elle waved her hand to cut him off, eyes finally landing upon you. 

“He failed, obviously! What the hell is going on here?” Elle demanded, obviously quite furious as she glared momentarily at Draco, then yourself. You were ready for her to start unleashing a well-deserved beating, but instead, she dragged you into a crushing embrace. “Fuck you, y/n! You had me worried sick! Where are your pants?” She groaned, smothering you with exhaustion, Crabbe looking to an annoyed Draco who dismissed him with a simple nod. You realized you were standing in front of your friends with just a shirt on and shifted in her hug. Elle’s eyes narrowed towards Draco when she released you, burning daggers into his cocky, smirking face. “And all this time, you were with him?” You were in trouble. 

“Nice to see you again as well, Miss Jr. Tonks,” he greeted her with a sarcastic charm, the scrunch of her nose and groan in her throat not as shocking as the middle digit she extended towards Elle. The rage looked to be steaming out of her ears, the bright blue tones in her hair threatening to shift into a furious flame atop delicate details. Annissabellenia Tonks, ladies and gentleman, your best friend, very classy indeed. It was never a marvel about why she preferred Elle when she revealed her full name. Her elder sister, Nymphadora, shared the unique names and outrageous, but very amusing, hair feature when it came to expressing her feelings. 

“You have some nerve--” you pushed yourself immediately between Elle and Draco, hushing your smaller, fiery friend before she could rightly teach Draco a thing or two. He would have definitely deserved everything she had in store for him, but you couldn’t let her get in the middle of something you didn’t even understand. “Is that my dress?” She asked, glancing down at what was actually left of the torn emerald silk that hung from your arm. It was just torn fabric at this point, empty emerald silk with their secrets in it’s fibers. 

“Elle! I’m alright, I promise,” you held her shoulders and wiggled your head to interrupt her boiling stare towards Draco. “It was, I, uh--” you stumbled. 

“I will be writing you a check, cousin,” Draco snickered from behind you, earning himself a thrash in the side from you. You cursed under your breath and her stare intensified, trying to comprehend the audacity this snake had to openly refer to her as family. Thought they were blood, everyone knew how repulsive the families were to one another. Elle especially was sensitive about the topic, hating Malfoy just as much as the entire Black family for what they had done to her mother. You were ready to settle Elle's rage when Cedric butting in. 

“Nevermind the stupid dress. Like bloody hell you are alright. Answer her question, what is going on here?” Cedric demanded, eyes flashing down to your own before returning to cast Draco a death stare. You noticed Cedric’s hands already in white-knuckled fists at his sides and your stomach dropped, fumbling to find a feasible and acceptable answer. Draco beat you to it. 

“What do you think, Diggory? Surely, I was just helping her study,” You closed your eyes. Of course he would. Were you surprised that Draco’s initial instinct was to encourage the anger brought up in the room? He antagonized Cedric, and enjoyed it. You ground your teeth together, keeping Malfoy behind you. 

“Watch your bloody tongue, Malfoy,” Cedric spat, sneering his name with a bitter tone that struck Draco purely as disrespectful. You felt him take a step forward, eager to meet Cedric’s challenge. 

“Or what--” Cedric was marching over, and your first thought was to shove Elle in front of him so that you could both keep the distance, Draco breathing down your neck. Elle recognized your panic and shoved her palm against Cedric’s chest to back him up. 

“Enough, both of you!” You yelled, glancing back at Draco, who obeyed in the smallest step backwards. Cedric was not so easy, Elle cursing him under her breath as she shoved him further back. 

“We’re leaving, it’s almost after hours, we all need to be back before the prefect does night attendance,” Elle declared, snapping her fingers in front of Cedric’s face to break him out of his glare and back into his body. He glanced down at her, and then towards you, huffing as he turned back towards the door with Elle beside him. “Good boy!” She tousled his hair and he whacked her with the back of his hand. 

“Shut up, Elle,” he groaned, trying to hold back his laughter as Elle slapped his ass to usher him out the door. He couldn’t hold his laughter in at that, turning around to raise a finger as Elle snickered deviously. You giggled at your friends, already on their way out while you teetered momentarily on your feet, Draco right beside you. 

“Okay, I need a moment,” you called after them, on your way to shut the door behind them as Elle coughed, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Oh, Y/n, come on,” Elle groaned dramatically, a hand still on Cedric to keep him still. Judging from the frown that spread on Cedric’s face with a final glance behind you, Draco was smirking proudly from his place a few steps away. More than just occasionally, Draco deserved to be whacked around, perhaps one of these days, you’d actually unleash Elle. 

“Elle, please, one minute,” you pleaded, hand falling down upon her arm. She searched your eyes, pursing her lips in argument with herself, an argument she would lose as your begging always worked. 

“No!” Cedric stated before Elle got the chance, watching Elle consider giving you and Draco another moment of privacy. You glanced up at Cedric, tilting your head while trying to verbalize a trust through his gaze.

“Ced--” you muttered, instantly interrupted by Cedric taking a step towards you. His eyes were full of warning. 

“No, I’m not leaving without you,” he argued, protesting loudly while you hushed him. It didn’t matter though, you and Draco had been making enough ruckus in his room that the other Slytherins weren’t even surprised to hear more yelling, they guessed anything was better than the moaning. 

“I’ll be right behind you, I just--” Cedric waited for you to finish, knowing you couldn’t without throwing yourself in the line of fire. Elle finished for you, waving her hands in front of Cedric’s face as she took hold of his ear. 

“Oh shush up, you dope,” she bickered, dragging him out of the room by a hold on his ear and pulling the door shut behind them both. You grinned to yourself, sighing lightly as you and Draco were once again privileged privacy in his dormitory. Carelessly, Draco wrapped his hands around your waist, spinning you around until you landed tight to his chest. 

“My father called in favors to have me granted single prefect quarters just down the hall,” he informed you. Your brows furrowed together, hands moving up to the collar of his shirt. 

“A prefect?” you questioned, a small humor to your tone. Draco Malfoy? A prefect? Over his dead body. 

“Just the space, without the real responsibilities,” he clarified, your response was a humming understanding as he placed his hand under your chin. “You may use it as your own, to come and go as you please,” your feet were numb again, a stiffness in your joints convincing you that you’d misheard him. You scoffed out a laugh, eyes widening while he traced his fingers across your lips. 

“Draco, what are you talking--” you didn’t get to finish your sentence, Draco interrupting your question by kissing you deeply. You didn’t argue, confused, but agreeable. You kissed him back, hands falling around his neck as his lips moved gently against your own. 

“Sleep well, I will be seeing you soon,” Draco bid you farewell, walking you to the door where he leaned into the doorway to watch you scurry after Cedric and Elle. They were at the bottom of the Slytherin common room stairs, to your surprise, the common room was bare. 

“You’re missing trousers still, y/n,” Elle sighed, once you reached the bottom and began shuffling out the door into the Hogwarts corridors. You followed Cedric, who paused to clear the hallways before motioning you forward. You fiddled with the hem of Draco’s shirt, begging it to stretch to your knees while your bare feet carried you after Cedric. Cedric paused at the corner, brows knitted together as he glanced down to your feet. 

“And slippers. Do you want my shoes?” He offered, still refusing to look directly at you. Cedric peered around the next corner, signaling you and Elle to a stop a couple steps behind him. You didn’t mind the cold stone floor singing the bottom of your feet, shaking your head lightly. 

“No, I will be alright. Thank you though, Diggs,” you answered, trying to glance past Cedric as well. You all heard footsteps, but could not find the source. Elle too stuck her head around your side so you could all peek around the dim-lit corridors. You were out after hours again. 

“Good,” Elle chimed in, folding her arms across her chest. “You deserve dirty feet after what you put Ced and I through, we’ve been worried sick for hours!” She was whisper-scowling you now, an aggravated frown forming on her lips. You shushed her, nodding your head as Cedric pulled you both along. 

“I’m sorry, truly, I was--” you tried apologizing again, but the sound of a sarcastic scoff echoing out of Cedric’s throat from in front of you cut you off. 

“You were what? Busy having too much fun in the bed of the worst possible bloke on the planet?” You winced noticeably, not denying it, of course. You were aware of what Cedric thought, what both of them thought actually. Your history with Malfoy was certainly to blame. Out of everything you could have done, why was your first instinct to defend Draco? 

“Ced, don’t--” you all tucked to another wall, Cedric removing his wand from the inside of his robe as Elle stuck her head around the corner. Cedric held his wand to one of the brighter torches, chanting a silent “nox” to dry the light and provide them with more shadows. Elle cut you off once you continued on. 

“He’s not lying, y/n. Please, because I am genuinely confused, have you actually forgotten what happened with you and Draco bloody Malfoy just last year? What could you possibly be thinking?” You didn’t know how to answer her, knowing she was probably just confused as you were. You were climbing the staircases now, Cedric thrashing his arm out to have you and Elle crash to a stop behind him as the one before him began to move. You would have to wait for a moment. 

“Elle, I remember, okay? He knows I have not forgotten nor forgiven any of it,” you answered truthfully, knowing neither of you had actually talked about it. When you and Draco did talk, it usually was just fighting and trying to defuse his ego. Cedric spun around to face you, a ridiculing sneer clear on his brims, the snarky sarcasm spilling off his tongue. 

“Really? Tell me, snogging someone who you despise, is that the new normal?” Cedric stood so close, glaring down at you with hints of hatred hiding in those admiral blues. Cedric had always been home to you, but when he was angry like this, he felt so unpleasantly cruel. Elle’s hand on your wrist pulled you back down a couple of steps to lessen the tension built in a strangely scornful despite, condemned from your dear friend. 

“You hate Draco Malfoy, hun,” Elle adjoined from your side, taking another step betwixt you and Cedric. She set her hand on his arm and he dropped his demeaning glare, turning to solidify the next staircase as it came to a halt in front of them. 

“I can’t hate him,” you muttered back, meeting Cedric’s pace up the stairs with Elle still at your side. Elle peculiarly pondered over your statement, a blatant truth that rid your lips without acknowledgement or intent. “I want to with every cell in my body, but it’s inconceivable. I strive to do nothing but loathe him, but it’s no use.” You tried clarifying, just digging yourself a bigger hole while Elle picked up her pace to ascend the stairs beside Cedric. They didn’t want to hear it, you were trying to make excuses, but they were still undoubtedly upset. 

“Why the blimey hell not? He definitely deserves it, ask Elle, he is technically fam--” Cedric slowed, unconsciously not wanting to leave you behind. This argument between the two of you felt recognizably familiar, with the addition of Elle. 

“Cedric!" she scowled. "No, blood or not, he's nothing to me. Nor should he be a thing to you, he surely does not deserve you,” she exclaimed through a theatrical sigh, mimicking Cedric’s actions to include you once more. She had every right to be upset, but she refused to talk about it because it would mean thinking about her mother and their family. The Black and Malfoy complicated family tree that had her boiling with rage, especially under the notion Draco Malfoy had actually referred to her as family after barely speaking to her for the entirety of their lives, uncivilized if anything here at Hogwarts. 

“Obviously,” you agreed, an ironic chuckle. Your lips were pulling into a grin, mirroring the one Elle wore on her own lips. 

“Is it him? Because you can actually do much better than Draco bloody Malfoy. There are dozens of better-looking, more attractive and genuine boys worth snogging here and in Hufflepuff,” Elle sang, a wiggle in her shoulders and humor returning to her tone. A weight was lifting off your shoulders, even admitting a soft laughter when Cedric winked down at Elle, who punched him in the shoulder. You were all grinning again, tension dissolving slowly. 

“No, trust me, that is the last possible thing it could be,” you clarified, the three of you now walking adjacent to one another when you reached the desired floor. Just a couple more turns to get to Hufflepuff. 

“Then what the freaking hell could it be?” Cedric questioned, exchanging a minor glance with Elle who held the same question behind bewildered brows. The worst part was not being able to give them a viable answer. 

“I don’t know, alright? Could you simply ignore what has been clearly determined and given to you by the Amortentia?” you asked both of them, tearing stressful digits through tangled curls. It was bubbling aggrieved confusion through your own brain, unable to fully fathom the truth in your ‘relationship’ with Draco. Elle rounded the corner, dismissing your admissions without a second thought. 

“I could and would happily if it had anything to do with Draco Malfoy,” she mocked, investing an unintentionally insult in the ironic etch of her words. “Or any Slytherin of that matter.” You stopped in your tracks, picking anxiously at the cuticles of your fingernails. 

“You say that now, but--” Elle stopped as well, turning to face you with a firm declaration.

“I’m not just saying it, I know it. You are aware of the rumors, y/n, what has become speculation of the Malfoy family…?” At her words, your mind flashed skin-crawling images of Mr. Malfoy from that day in the bookstore. You remembered the fear you felt so close to him, seeing him in the flesh. He embodied your worst possible fantasy of demise, contrasts of black and white as the visual epitome of emptiness. He was there at the World Cup, you hadn’t seen the death eaters up close to even remember what their masks looked like, but there was a probability he could have been among them. Draco as well. You weren’t sure, but once again, your lips moved faster than your rationality. 

“It is still just speculation, Elle. And this has nothing to do with who Draco’s family is, it’s not even him, it’s this bond that has fated us together,” you tried vindicating yourself, but once again, it was in Draco’s favor. If you were to consider the real reason why you kept up this fight with them, it was not solely to clear your own name. A part of you wanted to alter how they perceived Draco, as if you could heal their hatred. Cedric was looking over the next corner when he spoke next. 

“Bonds can be broken,” even Elle scoffed at Cedric’s benign assertion, both of you clearly riled at the careless attempt from Diggory. At something so idiotic, you were now threatening to lose your temper. 

“Really, Cedric? Please, tell me how!” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to face the reality of his foolish remark, voice raising. “Better yet-- I will let you perform the spell that could possibly break a soulmate bond! Have you gone delusional to even suggest something like that exists? You can’t rely on magic with just a wave of your wand and suddenly I’d be unchained from Malfoy! These bonds do not break,” you clarified, taking a dangerous, but determined step towards Cedric, who avoided your gaze. You wanted him to look at you, to realize how out of line he’d been. 

“Ced,” Elle started, pulling you back by your shoulder at the notice of how upset you’d reasonably gotten. “You know better than to say something so foolish. Soulmate bonds do not break, she’s right and you are conscious of it.” You all finally reached the Hufflepuff entrance, pausing right beside the portrait. 

“Exactly,” you thanked her, finding your emotional balance. “I am still trying to suppose the weight of my own options, I don’t need your say when it comes to something I cannot escape. I love you both with every annoying bone in my body, but you don’t understand how complicated something like this is,” Cedric and Elle exchanged a glance, a waver in your words. “I don’t want this, but I do need to figure it out for myself.” 

They both dropped their heads, Cedric sighing. “We can’t let you get hurt.” 

“I always mend and heal,” you joked, squeezing Elle’s shoulder, hopefully. “And I’m not scared of getting hurt by some ghastly git like Draco Malfoy,” you tried to force a sanguine smile to reassure them, Elle placing her hand atop your own with a chuckle herself. 

“You should be,” she sighed, giving your hand a soft squeeze in reply. Cedric was still hesitant, narrowed eyes watching you and Elle closely as you continued. 

“You’re probably right,” you answered her, taking in a sharp inhale. “But I’m not. That has to speak for something of my soul,” she rolled her eyes, annoyed but humorously. “I am sorry about your dress,” Elle cursed, shaking her head as she tossed her arms around your shoulders and you both embraced one another tightly. 

“Your soul is the one in trouble,” Elle muttered, hugging you close. “Don’t worry, I’ll hunt him down for that check.” You agreed completely, laughing with an outstretched palm towards Cedric. 

“To say the least,” you laughed, Cedric staring at your hand for a considerable moment before bowing his head and pulling you both into a hug. 

“We just want you to be happy,” Cedric admitted, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. You smiled, the warmth of friends returning and remaining tension seeming to dissipate. 

“You are both the best happiness in my life,” all three of you erupted in hushed laughter, relaxing into the group-hug before Cedric released you both. 

“Now you’re just being cheeky, come on,” Cedric held the door open as you and Elle tucked inside and crept silently through the dark common room. You stopped before the dormitory steps, spinning around to face Cedric again. 

“Thank you for coming to find me, I am sorry I had you worried,” you tossed your arms around his neck and pulled his taller frame into a goodnight hug. Cedric’s hands slipped across your back to return your embrace, secretly divulging himself to the scent of your hair before releasing you. 

“Goodnight to both of you,” he called, before disappearing up the steps to the boys' rooms as you and Elle started up to the girls. 

“Night Diggs!” You whispered back, Elle waving dramatically, “Sleep tight, Ceddy-poo!” You shoved her up the steps. You found your dormitory and snuck inside, about ready to head back to sleep after a short, but rather exacerbating day. You scooped up your tiny kitten who almost camouflage into the sheets, hushing gentle hums while rocking the small pet.

Elle watched you from her bed, combing her hair before whispering, “he still has feelings for you, you know.” You paused in the middle of pulling on a pair of cozy pants. You shook the thought from your head before it could even sneak in. 

“Cedric? No, we’ve just been friends for so long, he’s worried…” your voice trailed off, your mind bringing you back to that night by the fireplace. He’d kissed you. You never fully talked about it, or what it meant. Cedric Diggory was your best friend, he couldn’t. 

“Oh,” Elle answered, not remotely convinced while smirking as she tucked herself under the covers. “Sure.” You sunk into your own bed, distressed possibilities bouncing off your now clearly active mind. You just stared at the ceiling. “Good night.” 

“Yeah,” it was the only thing that would leave your lips. Your kitten nuzzled to the height of your chest, just a small ball rising and falling with your breathing. There was so much you wanted to answer, dozens of questions about everything that had happened just moments ago that were still twisted in your mind. 

You slept with Draco again, but this time, he admitted to not wanting to let you go. And he cared to share the information about his single room. He actually invited you to accompany him, had he gone mad? You were probably mad to consider it as anything more than just an invitation for privacy in your next session. You pushed the notion out of your head, shifting in bed and drawing the blankets closer. You didn’t mind changing out of Draco’s shirt, and the presence that remained on the fabric of his worn shirt blessed your senses with the belief he was still there. The smallest exchange to grant you comfort as your eyes grew heavy and you managed to forget about all of it, just long enough to sleep. 

You wake the next morning to the sound of Elle singing, quite awfully as she proceeds to wake the entire room with excited song. She was actually happy to get back to class. 

You had most of your classes with her, Cedric sharing just one in the afternoons. You were taking three different Herbology-based courses this year, mostly with Professor Sprout, who paired you with Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor, a perfect pairing, she’d called it. You were just as happy as she was, finally, someone who shared your fondness of plantlife! You actually spent most of the class debating Alihotsy trees and Fanged Geranium flowers and losing yourselves in the green world. You hadn’t really shared much time with Neville, and recognized a remote awkwardness that was rather adorable in his conversations with you, but he was nice and you knew you’d get along well. 

You and Neville were currently walking together to Defense Against the Dark Arts with the new Professor Moody, still lost in discussions of herbs and floras when you heard your name being called down the hall. 

“Y/n!” You turned to see one of the ginger twins rushing through the corridor in your direction, smiling widely. You giggled to yourself watching their unstrategic navigation of the hallway, as if knocking into other students and immediately apologizing was their intent. 

“I will see you in there, Neville! I really liked talking with you,” you turned back towards Neville, a quick and temporary goodbye to buy you a few minutes with the Weasley twin on his way to you. 

“You as well, y/n, I’ll see you,” Neville called back, already parting from your side to disappear into the ajar classroom. You took a step further from the door to meet the tangerine-hair and freckled boy halfway. 

“Y/n!” He greeted you happily, pausing and adjusting his robe and tie once he reached you. You beamed back at him, unable to prevent the happy energy that overwhelmed you whenever you were around any of the Weasley siblings, honestly. Especially the twins. 

“Weasley!” you radiantly cheered back, greeting him with a mirror of his wide smile. You reached out a hand after motioning at his collar with no luck at his understanding, adjusting the tab of his collared shirt yourself. He thanked you with a nod, raising a brow down at you.

“Ah, yes, but which one?” You admitted it was insanely difficult to tell them apart, you’d even been in attendance when their own siblings and mother had second thoughts about which was which. You crained your head to the side, ticking your tongue against your teeth with a glance up and down. 

“Hm, rather hard to swear by given the messy hair and goofy grin,” you started with a sigh, stepping around him. “But in a questionable final answer, it’s good to see you, Georgie, how are you?” George nodded, a hint of laughter leaving his lips while winking down at your smaller frame.

“You’re good,” he congratulated you, returning your friendly grin. “I’m swell. Very lovely seeing you in one piece back on your feet, doll. How about yourself?” George asked, since the last image he’d seen of you was from the night of the party when you had been slowly losing consciousness. You rubbed a finger to your temple, trying to laugh off the embarrassment. 

“Thank you, I take pride in my mere guesses. I’m well, I suppose, still standing indeed,” you answered, truthfully. “Honestly, I’ve got to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts now, but I would like to get to the bottom of what happened at yours the other--” you didn’t want to be late to class, but did still want answers as to what happened, the whole night still in shambles. One minute, you were dancing, the next, you were awake in Draco’s room with an awful headache. 

“I won’t keep you long, I’ve got a proposal,” George shushed you, taking your hand to pull you a few steps off to the side. He was excited, you could sense it in the eagerness in his voice. 

“Wow, Georgie, I don’t know what to say. You shouldn’t have,” you commented sarcastically, allowing George to lead you off into the privacy of the corner next to the classroom. 

“I just couldn’t help myself, y/n,” he laughed, returning the stupid suggestion with a deviant glint showing through pecan pupils, glancing around to secure the area before tempting you with a hushed voice. “How would you like helping Fred and I with a quest for eternal glory?”

“Well, neither of you are of age so that’s pretty much out of the question, unless…” you finally caught his drift and your hand shot free to bat against his shoulder. “No, George, tell me you are not thinking--”

“Oh, lighten up, sweetheart,” he meant hush up, but was too nice to say it. He caught your hand, positioning both of you towards the wall to prevent another overhearing. “We require just a dime of your expertise,” he clarified with a charming smile, the twinkle in his eyes being one of his better attempts at convincing. You scoffed up at him, almost trying to find the hint of witty wisecracking in the depths of his umber hues, still shadowing the devious ploy. 

“Absolutely not, George Wealsey! It’s cheating, plus, it’s going to be impossible to elude,” you tried to talk sense into him, but he was ignorant to fact. He easily brushed off the reality you were trying to justify. 

“Every spell has a loophole, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re absolutely brilliant,” he gave your hand a squeeze and you attempted to whack him again. Maybe if words didn’t explain it clear enough, a reality swat would. 

“No!” you shut him down, trying to ignore the blush that poured to your cheeks. He was being cheeky again. “Sweet compliments will not earn you my favor in this manner, George! This is a poor idea and will get us into trouble,” you told him, already nervous being involved in the conversational debate. George clutched your hand to your chest with both of his own, squeezing it close. You shook your head, already strict on your own answer.

“Surely with that attitude. Just a few delightful moments of your graceful assistance to brew something as simple an aging potion,” you continued to shake your head, watching the other students file into the classroom. George continued either way, “tomorrow morning in the boys lavatory, third floor?” he offered, wiggling an enticing eyebrow. “We can catch up on what happened a few nights ago as well.” 

“George--” your attention caught elsewhere at the sound of commotion down the corridor. When you glanced around George, your eyes caught sight of the rowdy arrangement of Slytherins that roared down the hallway in your direction. Of course, at the front, was their platinum savior. He caught your gaze, temporarily as it immediately flashed to where your hands bore together at George’s chest. Your stomach knotted, lips parting as if to already explain what was going on the moment George interrupted. 

“Do you fancy me to beg? I can fall to my knees at your feet--” and so, the goofball did. George began to decline onto his knees at your slippers and your hands shot out to stop his fall. 

“Oh shut up, you dork!” you laughed, attention resonating in it’s rightful return towards George. “Fine. But I refuse to make any promises about it’s proficiency compared to that of Headmaster Dumbledore!” You caved, unable to deal with the excessive dramatics, also not wanting to get his hopes up about the impossible. George popped back onto his feet, throwing his hands up in victory, grin widening. 

“You are undoubtedly the best that ever lived!” George cheered, pulling your hands to his lips. Draco was glaring now, obviously noticeably to you but not so to the others surrounding him as they all filed into the classroom right beside you.

“I know,” you thanked him with a lull of your head, not letting Draco’s glare show discomfort. “Dawn. Tell your brother. I will not wait.” He let you pull your hand free, reaching out to place a kiss to your cheek. Your face heated even more insensibly, hand raising to cover your cheek.

“You’ve got yourself a deal! Until then, your grace,” he bowed dramatic, slow steps backwards while you chewed on the inside of your lip, dismissing him with a flail of your fingers.

“Whatever, Georgie! I’ll see you,” you adjusted your back, clearing your throat to try and expel any signs of the clear blush resonating across your features. 

You rolled your eyes while walking into the classroom, keeping your gaze forward as you slid into your seat beside Elle in the desk right before Seamus on the left. With the smallest glance across the middle, you caught sight of the blonde hair seated just off to your right as usual, with Goyle. The room was silent, all attention towards Professor Moody who made alarming, rather frightening, introductions and then proceeded with the Unforgivable Curses. You jumped in your desk when he loudly called upon Wealsey and produced the Imperius Curse on a small insect, and then joined the class in laughter as it floated from student to student. 

You listened to Draco hooting in his seat as the spider danced upon his face, a cheeky smile joining the blush as it glowed up onto your cheeks. Once Moody had waved it free, Draco adjusted his hair while shifting in his seat, casting you a minor glance with a bit of a side-grin. You tore your eyes away, gaze returning to Moody’s demonstration with distaste. Your hands tightened around the spine of your book, wincing remotely as Elle’s hand shot to yours. He made Neville stand to watch the Cruciatus Curse, the entire classroom negatively responding to the poor insect's painful screams just before he brought it to Granger a few desks in front of you. It made your skin crawl, listening to it’s tormented screech and then, it’s disturbing end. You closed your eyes, your stone stiff frame held frozen in place while Elle squeezed the life from your hand. 

Neither of you would hurt something as innocent as a little insect, you didn’t watch but you heard it’s final cry and it was upsetting as all hell. When the class had settled and you were finally dismissed, none of you could leave fast enough. You tried to gather your belongings, struggling to keep up with Elle as she dragged you out behind her by your fingers. 

“Come on,” Elle called, almost losing her grip on lugging you along. You tried to find Neville before he disappeared into the crowd. You wanted to talk to him, make sure he was okay, but you lost his taller frame in the mess of students all trying to crowd the door. 

“You’re going to rip my bloody arm off, Elle,” you muttered, trying to keep up with her pace. She didn’t even pause to address your comment. 

“I want to get as far away as quick as possible,” she confessed, as if no one else wanted exactly the same thing. You could have sprinted or apparated and it probably wouldn’t have been fast enough. 

“I can’t--” Your sentence was cut off by Elle shoving you through the crowd of students, pushing her way impatiently through the door. The jumbled commotion in the doorway had you all stopped for a moment, pressed up against one another too quickly. You heard Crabbe and Goyle snicker behind you and was immediately aware of the warmth surrounding your backside, almost enclosing around you. Your breath snagged for a moment, blood rushing up your neck. 

“Heavens sake, does no one know how to use their legs?” with another peeved comment, Elle yanked you the rest of the way out, but not before Draco could swat your ass with his fingertips. You bounced on the balls of your feet at the gesture, teeth enclosing on your lip while a grin fought to resist your lips, cheeks enriched in a hot blush. 

Draco stepped around you, smirk evident as he led the group of Slytherins through the hall, walking just as cocky with his head held proudly. He didn’t glance at you like you did him, pretending as though he didn’t register your presence among his worshiping housemates. 

“That old, mad geezer has undoubtedly lost his mind,” Elle huffed, her expression still showing signs of sadness. “Say any sane parent or professor learned about what he was producing in a classroom, he would be out of a job in an instant. Professor Moody is unquestionably off his bloody rocker.” You just nodded throughout her rant, trying to be cognizant of the spiral staircase pointing you both back in the direction of the Hufflepuff House. 

Elle was still spewing on about it when you got to Hufflepuff, not hesitating to recant the entirety of the events to Cedric, who noticed your unease the moment you stepped through the door. 

A few hours later, you laid out across the sofa in the common room, feet extended up the back of the cushions while your head laid just off the rim. Your hair dangled from the sofa onto the carpet, idling between Cedric and Elle. You’d all invited Seamus, Ginny, Dean Thomas and Neville over for a study session that turned into a bit of friendly gambling between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Neville sat off to the side, flipping through the pages of the Herbology textbook Professor Moody had given him after class. You all felt rather compassionate to him after the bothersome actions of Moody earlier in class’s demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses.

You held your card opposite the others, currently being upside down while the others sat peacefully right-side up with their legs crossed on the floor. Seamus wiggled a brow towards you as you folded, inevitably bore out by his awful pokerface. Ginny was silent, a small flutter in her knees. She didn’t look up, that was her tell. You cleared your throat, brushing at the brink of your nose while Neville stifled a chuckle, not even looking up from the pages of his book.

“Blimey, you’re all rather awful at cards,” Seamus mocked, impatiently waiting for Cedric and Elle to call his bet. Cedric tapped the back of his cards twice and Elle conceded after another moment, folding while leaning into the comfort of the sofa beside you.

“Or are we wise, now Finnigan?” Elle teased right back, Cedric calling the Gryffindor bet happily. Dean and Ginny exchanged a concerned glance, muttering irritated expressions while throwing their hands as well. You all watched Seamus and Cedric, neither of them revealing much on light features.

“Care to put a wager on it, Diggory?” Seamus teased, a look of interest rising on Cedric’s face as he actually considered the offer. 

“Depending on what your tiny brian had in store, Seamus,” Cedric returned the tease, causing the group to flourish in scattered chuckles. Even Neville looked up from the pages, grinning as well. 

“He’s not that good at calling the shots, go easy on ‘em, Seamus,” Dean added, pulling his knees up with a gulp of his water, him and Ginny both discreet with their own laughter. Seamus jabbed Dean with his elbow, nearly causing him to topple over onto Ginny. 

“Easy-smeasy,” Seamus brushed off, eyes slimming into a confident smirk. “Seven Sickles?”

“I have no interest in taking your money, Seamus,” Cedric retorted, flipping his cards. You knew him well enough to distinguish the tell. “Unless you’re ready to call it closer to fifteen galleons?” 

“Hm,” Seamus hesitated, all of you knowing he was clearly a kid with no intentions of betting anywhere near fifteen galleons. You were unsure he would be even accountable to the seven sickles he’d originally offered. Seamus took another moment before his head snapped back to Cedric. “How about a taste of Veritaserum?”

“What are you talking about?” Elle asked, attention pulling from the messy braid she had begun on your dangling strands. You, Neville and Ginny were serious now, the mere mention of Veritaserum alerting everyone. It appeared that Dean Thomas and Elle were the only distant strangers to the truth serum. 

“He knows,” Seamus implied, all of you still in disbelief at the mention. “Couple drops ‘o Veritaserum and he’ll be hollerin’ truths till the sun comes up. What do ya say?”

“Truth serum,” you whispered towards Elle, who was not following. A part of her was sheltered, more comfortable with the muggle-world than this one. You were sure she’d heard it before, she just was not the best at recollection. 

“And you’ve got Veritaserum handy?” Dean asked the question that you’d all been sitting and pondering on. No, absolutely not, this was Seamus Finnigan, any use of something as powerful was strictly controlled by the Ministry. There was no way he had Veritaserum. 

“Not on my person, but I can acquire it easily,” Seamus explained, not exactly dispelling everyone’s doubts. Dean and Ginny exchanged a look of uncertainty. 

“Diggs…” you warned, reaching a backwards hand out to try and inform him of the seriousness of what he was considering before he could make his choice. Cedric considered it for a simple moment, glancing towards you and Elle with a side-grin of confidence. Cedric wanted you to trust, but you were nervous for him. 

“You’re on,” Cedric accepted, cockily. The Gryffindors looked over Seamus’ hand as you and Elle pulled closer to Cedric to view his own. It was a dumb move, but you agreed that Cedric’s hand was not all bad. A protective part of you wanted to use magic to make it better, but you controlled yourself enough to try and trust in Cedric. 

“Of course,” you sighed heavily in defeat when Cedric ignored your plea, Elle grappling at your hand to try and control her unsteady nerves. Ginny laughed, winking at you just as Cedric played his cards. 

“Finnigan, you better call the cat because you’re going to be singing like a canary all the way home,” you winced at the bad witty comment from Cedric, giggling to yourself. He wasn’t very good with the sarcastic puns. Seamus watched the reveal, throwing his head back to reflect the defeat while Cedric finished. “Back to a full house, that is.”

“Wow, very fortunate,” Seamus groaned, Cedric’s lips even pulling into a victorious grin as he high-fived you and Elle, but then clicked his tongue with a chuckle. “But not so fast, Ced. I’m sorry, but I must flush your dreams. Royally flush, that is.” Seamus mocked his cunning tone, instantly shutting down Cedric’s early celebration and causing you all to jump forward as he laid his cards out for your review. Your legs shot out before you and carried you on your knees to analyze them more closely on the ground. You gave Elle a shove out of the way, shock manifesting in rowdy surprise of laughter, Cedric’s curse echoing off the wall as he tossed his crap cards at Seamus. 

“Was all luck!” Cedric exclaimed, sourly, reaping of loss. The entire group erupted in laughter, you fell against the couch beside Cedric, still lost in giggles. He was a poor loser, head hung while congrats were in order for Seamus. 

“Luck had nothing to do with it, was all strategy and wisdom that claimed my victory,” Seamus defended himself, a clasp on his shoulder while Ginny re-examined the cards, still completely surprised. 

“Bullshit,” Elle agreed, trying to comfort Cedric’s wallowing with a soft pat on his arm. Cedric pretended not to need it, still under the impression that he was fine with the outcome not in his favor. 

“Purely luck, Seamus,” you added, still leaning against Cedric. He was thoroughly surprised he did not win, but even more upset that he had taken a dumb wager from someone like Seamus Finnigan and now actually had to pay up. 

“You’re just jealous I’m not going to be the one spilling all my secrets. What do we say about tomorrow night? Just after the Triwizard champion selection?”

“As if we’ll need more grief if he isn’t chosen,” Elle whispered solely to you, even receiving a stifled chuckle from Ginny who then pretended not to be listening. You threw a card at her.

“This is Diggory we’re talking about, why wouldn’t he?” You tousled Cedric’s hair, still uneasy about his decision to put in his name, but that was an argument for a later time.“He’s a wretched lucky charm.” 

“You mean he was,” Neville commented, closing his book with a reach over the carpet to begin organizing the cards. He looked up to see all three of you glaring at him and laughed, “sorry, too soon?” he questioned, all of your faces softening at his unironic realization. You and Elle joined him at starting to organize them as well. 

“Fine. Here. Invite who you want, I’m an open book, I don’t have secrets,” You could bet on that. Having Cedric as your best-friend meant knowing him like the back of your hand. Even though you were sure he could not say the same about you. Cedric was not a private person, so there wasn’t a reason you knew of for him to even be remotely nervous. “It’s going to be a rather boring event and a bigger waste of time for the sum of us.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Ginny confirmed, stacking the cards with a nod to Dean Thomas, and then Neville. They returned the gesture, accepting the invitation eagerly.

“Don’t worry, we will see for ourselves, then, won’t we?” Seamus added, trying to find any worrisome actualities visible in Cedric’s solid expression. 

You were nervous for Cedric, but couldn’t tell if he was scared himself. You tilted your head to the side, eyes catching the smallest glimpse of a tiny scrap of parchment poking out of your bag. You plucked it from its placement tucked between your books, trying not to make the gesture noticeable to the others. You stood, balancing it discreetly in the gap of your palm with a small stride to the fireplace to read it in secret. 

By pure uncontrollable coincidence, your cheeks crowned crimson and you felt a brisk beat in breast balance uneasily upon avid yearn. You hated the beckon of polarity that vanquished the balance of emotions and senses, a lack of rationality that came with seeing the message stained in ink upon the scrap of parchment. 

‘Come tonight. After hours’, signed by a poorly sketched illustration of a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to the end! A couple of reveals, Draco has a heart? Possibly? Maybe? Elle is an original character, non-canon sister of Nymphadora Tonks. And what about what Elle had to say about Cedric? And upcoming bonding time with George? Many mysteries worth sticking around for? I hope you do! Please keep commenting and leaving kudos, let me know what your thoughts are! As always, I love you!


	9. Art Accomplice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a summons from Draco, you agree to meet him in his new chambers. Night cut short with the promise of helping George Weasley before dawn. Are you aware that cheating is against the rules?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot and I am uploading like a minute before I have to leave for work, but anyway, I really hope you like it! SMUT WARNING for the first half. As always, drop comments to let me know what you think! I love hearing from you all, you are all hilarious and amazing! I love you nerds!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

A voice inside your head proclaimed vast unreason, imploring you to take advantage of the sense tethering you to Draco in order to find him. His instructions were rather vague and you were naïve to believe he would have been waiting for you in the Slytherin common room. You approached the portrait with strain and cold feet, stomach sinking when you introduced yourself quietly. The portrait was a protector of sorts, one of the obstacles preventing you access to the passage into Slytherin. You didn’t have an idea what you were doing honestly. 

At first, you weren’t even going to acknowledge Draco’s request, but you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned for hours, pondering the belief he actually wanted to see you. You were becoming delusional with this whole artificial relation with Draco, truth still disguised through the use of his bipolar words. What did he actually want? You weren’t going to start letting yourself think it was you. Inevitably, this was Draco Malfoy, a contemptuous disrespect to everyone who crossed his path, and a revolting jerk. There was an endless supply of words you could use to describe Draco’s annoying and problematic existence. 

To your surprise, the portrait had been previously corrupted by Draco before you arrived. The recognition of the small Hufflepuff crest embroidered on the dandelion cotton threads was enough to grant you entry. You were surprised to say the least. Should you have been bothered by the notion that he’d already fallen under the impression you’d been in attendance at the smallest summons? Most likely.

Once inside the Slytherin house, you were met with the whole new trouble of trying to locate the quarters that belonged to Malfoy. You really wished things would have been labeled to make the quiet quest easier. You slipped along the wall up the boys staircase, trying to bare yourself solely to the shadows. It was that voice inside of you again, attempting to persuade you to rely on the silly soulmate bond in order to sense his whereabouts. After another few lost moments, you caved and paused against the wall to focus your awareness inwards and find the thread that bore you to him. You were convinced you were wasting time with a useless theory you’d really never even heard of when an abnormal energy encircled you. You seized it at it’s first presence, anchoring yourself to it promptly. 

Your feet seemed to do the rest of the work, responding to the flutter in your chest while sneaking through the silent dormitories until you approached a door that produced a magnetic pull. You were screwed if this was the wrong door, glancing around to assure you were truly alone in the narrow pathway while slowly turning the door handle. You didn’t pause to peak around, disappearing inside immediately and latching it quietly shut behind you. You held yourself to the back of the door, eyes wandering the dim room that appeared empty if not for the chests and trunks that occupied the center of the room. There were two torches lighting the room, a much larger bed off in the corner, a wardrobe and a desk on the opposite wall, and a stained-glass window depicting a snake. 

There was no sign of Draco, you immediately cursed yourself for listening to some stupid voice that had led you on a wild goose chase through Slytherin. That was when your ears picked up the faint sound of water streaming behind the door beside the empty bed. You hadn’t even noticed the door, if not for the small silver serpent impressed on the doorknob, the door blended perfectly into the wall. You were utterly and dreadfully damned if this room did not belong to Draco, feet treading softly towards the door. The door was unlocked, easily answering your turn and granting you access to a smaller room of heated mist clouded the entirety of the latrine. You could barely see through the clouds, but Slytherin robes carelessly tossed across the tile beneath your slippers was a start. You figured Draco was actually bathing himself in an inferno from hell with the amount of steam produced from the spout, silent steps closer as foggy glass walls enclosed the small shower against the wall. You could visualize the blurry shades of Draco’s pale skin while it appeared he was burning inside, grinning to yourself with a silent hop up onto the counter. 

If you were wise, you would let him bathe in peace and return to Hufflepuff before more mistakes could be made. Instead, your feet swayed from the countertop, a scheming smirk tugging at your lips whilst you leaned a curved foot over to the haft of the toilet, giving it a small push down. You didn’t expect it to happen so fast. 

Draco actually yelped aloud the moment the scorn of hot water spewed frigid, frosty floods down upon him. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a failed attempt to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds as Draco suffered on the inside of the shower. He slammed the door open, blonde hair dripping down into his face with traces of bubbles still lingering while you tried to focus solely on his face, the temptation of his naked body still taunting you. 

“Very mature, darling. Humorous indeed, you bratty minx,” Draco hissed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing daring eyes towards you. You were still giggling, tossing your head back as Draco still endured the icy water piercing his backside. “You owe me an apology, ruthless prat.” 

“I don’t think so. You deserve it especially now,” you laughed out the words, sitting tall before him on the sink, legs still kicking out below you. You were overheating, the steam from his shower faltering with the cold to etch his face more clearly. Not just his face, but you tore your eyes from exploring the remainder of his body. 

“Is that what you think? Really?” Draco asked, leaning his forearm against the wall of the shower and leaning his dripping frame into the entrance. He was inviting you to look and you were caving in. 

“Certainly! As a matter of fact, peabrain--” your sentence was cut off by a bold brow cocked towards you with the playful insult returned. Draco flexed his knuckles, combing his soaked, shampooed strands out of his face. 

“Oh, you’re going to regret that one,” he interrupted, stealing the smirk from your lips and allowing it to rise on your own. You tried to call his bluff, but you weren’t fast enough.

“Is that right, Dra--” in the flash of your words, Draco ran from the shower, still entirely drenched. At his first movement, you squeaked and immediately tried to make a run to the door and your fingertips barely grazed the knob, before Draco’s arm snuck around your waist and dragged you into the shower. “Draco!” you gasped, the freezing water now soaking your hair as Draco pinned you to the wall. You tried to fight free, noting the great water pressure momentarily before being submerged under the spout overhead. He was grinning widely, chuckling while you both immersed under the water. You wanted to point out the soap still scrubbed in his strands, but he continued. 

“Do you regret it?” Draco asked over the sounds of your struggling, your laughs and shivers combining in your throat while watching him through the downpour. You went to bat his chest, but his hands left your waist and moved to pin your arms to the wall above your head. You squealed, your clothes now soaked against your body. 

“Never, you deserve--” he cut you off again, this time, with his own lips. He kissed you, passionately with your hands still pinned above you. You returned his kiss through the water, leaning into his build while your lips moved against his own wet brims. The water began to heat again, matching the warmth that erupted through your insides in a splendid spread through your limbs at an impatient kiss. Your hands tried to pull free to touch him, to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss, but they didn’t budge under his hold. You whined unintentionally and Draco answered by spinning you around so that your stomach now flattened against the stiff wall, keeping your hands pinned, this time behind your back. You could feel his wet, bare frame on your backside and his lips hesitating beside your ear. 

“And you deserve discipline for disrespectful deviance, Miss l/n,” if not for his front pressing up against your back, you would have completely unraveled. Your knees wobbled, his hot breath leading strenuous bumps down your neck and piercing through the dividends of your spine. Your cranium tossed back upon his shoulder and flush against the shower’s downpour. You let the water caress your features, nipping at your bottom lip while a discreet wave of lust commended your nerves. Draco grew stiff against your rear, the same desires untangling inside of him. “And you should be so wise as to not argue, y/n.” You didn’t think, you couldn’t. It was impossible, a wetness even occupying your panties. 

“Yes, sir,” you sighed, surrendering fully. All reasonable disagreement had potential to fight, but you had no desire to formulate cognitive rationale. Draco enjoyed the sound of your agreement completely, a hardness tight to your back as his lips began devouring the droplets down your neck. You wiggled your fingers and bent your knees to angle yourself enough to catch his dick between your digits, dragging your hand over his length while he growled into your skin. He forced himself harder against you, responding fondly to your motions. He lost hold of your hands for a moment and you used it to struggle your soaked clothes off, Draco’s help necessary because the soaked clothes seemed to refuse to give. 

You both laughed, trying to tear the wet fabric of your sweater off your head. His hands had a lot more luck with your skirt, which you both decided to disregard in the corner, sweater thrown over the side of the glass wall. He returned to wedge you against the wall, lips hungrily attacking your own, his hands cupping your face as your own folded around his neck to draw him down closer to you. Draco’s hands then continued down your neck, hand lingering at the base of your throat with a small pressure to hold your head tighter to the wall. You gasped against his lips, letting a hand fall from around his neck and sink down his chest to find his dick once again. His hold on your neck tightened and you smiled proudly, relaxing into his kinky touch. Draco’s free fingers snuck around your back to rid your chest of the casual bralette, adding it to the display over the shower door. His fingers traced over your ribcage, guiding itself between your breasts before latching tightly to them. You whimpered into his mouth, his tongue enjoying the depths of your parted brims. 

You pulled away from his lips, hands upon his chest used to swap places so he leaned into the wall and you were able to fall to your knees before him. You lined your tongue up the stiff length of his cock, watching the pleasure exhibit his expression and proceeding to take him entirely deep into your mouth. Draco groaned, his hand diving into the wet mop of your hair, tangling it even worse while he guided your head back and forth. You grasped the base with your hands, letting your saliva coat the rims in addition to pumping him in and out of the back of your throat. Draco was insanely gratified by the sound of your gaps and gags, head repeatedly thrown back into the wall and followed by groans, watching with satisfaction. He angled your head to look at him as you drove him deeper down your throat, needing to please him. “Fuck, I’m close,” Draco warned, his grip in your hair moving your head faster up his length. You wanted it, eyes pleading up towards him to gift you his release. 

“Please,” you moved your hands in unison with your mouth and tongue, swallowing bits of precum when it dripped from his dick. Draco grunted, and then forced your head deeper down his dick, cumming almost entirely down your throat. You struggled at first, but responded most appreciatively and swallowed his load, licking him clean with a grin up at him the entire time. It was Draco’s turn to be weak in the knees, watching you like you were a heavenly goddess, your tongue swirled across your lips. 

“Come here,” he demanded and you shot to your feet as he crashed his lips down upon yours and drew your wet body to his own. He snaked your panties from your hips, moving his hands to cup your asscheeks and give them a playful squeeze. You gasped a laugh against his lips, rolling your eyes and responding to his actions by jumping into his arms, ankles crossing around his back while drawing yourself firm against his torso. He held you close, pinning you under the water once more while kissing you harder. His hand slipped from your breast down over your stomach and paused to caress your soft, wet folds.

“Draco, please,” you begged, the throbbing between your legs no longer interested in waiting while he snickered proudly at your plea. Draco didn’t wait either, leaning you into the support of the wall as he adjusted your positioning in order to enter you at full force, his fingers massaging over your clit while you cried out in sudden pleasure, arms locked across the back of his neck. He was driving you back into ecstasy, moans radiating in the heat of the shower, the water blaring down upon your thrusting bodies. He held you up while he fucked you, his lips falling to bite your shoulder to contain his own pleasure. You never felt pain, sure he was close to piercing through the skin with those pearly canines, but you couldn’t tell the difference. You crashed your hips onto his, nails clawing at his own shoulder blades while he panted in the divot of your collar, sucking harshly on the skin. 

He thrusted harder and you agreed, breathless moans and sighs echoing off the thin walls. Your head fell against his own as you neared your climax already. He dropped you back onto your feet and squished you to the glass, in full control of your limbs while he perched your foot up onto the rim of the glass to provide himself a better angle to you. You laid flat against the glass, impatiently craving him back inside of you whilst he positioned himself behind you, entering you again with a forceful shove that made you gasp in dramatic desire. He twisted his hand through your hair to give himself something to pull at, stretching your neck to the side as his lips returned to brutalize your neck with needy nips and kisses. You were in heaven again, listening to him crash and repeatedly pound against your rear with quicker movements. You lost your ability to breathe, your toes curled and you gripped his fists while they held your hips tightly. 

“I’m coming!” You cried out, barely able to get the words out before Draco finished again, this time, in the warmth inside you. You responded with your own climax, falling into his front as he continued to drag his gasping lips up your neck and to the skin right behind your ear. He gave you a moment to rest on him and then turned you around to kiss your lips again, less hungry. 

You cupped his cheeks, still relying on his support and bracing yourself against his chest, a satisfied smile striking your lips. You pulled away to breathe calmer, both of you just looking at one another for a handful of silent seconds before you tilted his head back into the stream of water. “You had shampoo in your hair the entire time,” you pointed out, causing Draco to scoff as he quickly scrubbed the remainder of the bubbles from his chiffon locks.

“You’re so helpful,” Draco commented, extending into the downpour, steam rising from his skin. You watched with a gentle smile, not even knowing it occupied your lips. He looked natural, which was odd for Draco Malfoy, he appeared to be normal, just himself. You realized how creepy it was watching him shower, just grinning like a fool, clearing your throat. 

“I know, I try,” you replied, the mist building up once again. Draco looked natural, which was odd for Draco Malfoy, he appeared to be normal, just himself. You realized how creepy it was watching him shower, just grinning like a fool, clearing your throat as you caught his attention while he reached for the conditioner. 

“Just going to watch, or are you going to join?” He asked, raising a brow towards your odd expression. He offered you the bottle once he began scrubbing it into his own scalp. With just the smallest whiff, it became your favorite soap. It smelled like him, obviously, since it was his, but it was more than that. Something as small and irrelevant like his conditioner arose the perception of being with him, your nostrils being granted the familiarity was enough to beckon a wave of solace. You accepted it, knocking yourself out of your mind rather quickly.

“Only because the water pressure is magnificent,” you found an excuse, laughing it off while you joined him for a rather quick shower. He teased you for taking so long to condition your hair, and you actually had to explain the difference between your hair. Thicker, longer strands demanding special treatment that his smaller brain couldn’t comprehend. Most of the shower was spent in his arms, almost choking on soap as neither of you were really able to keep your lips off one another. You tried rinsing the bubbles from your locks, but Draco was pressing kisses to your shoulders, tracing the angles of your body with a soft loofah. He would deny it, but he felt secure enough in the privacy of his personal lavatory to unwillingly be passionate towards you. You soaked it in, knowing it was never going to last. You weren’t insecure around him, you were comfortable being completely bare, nerves comforted with every kiss. You fought over the hot water he hogged, wrestling with him while both of you drowned yourselves in one another’s laughter. 

When you both finished bathing, he left you in the shower to find another towel, while you rang out your still soaked clothes. He came back to see you straining yourself while twisting an entire lake out of your sweater, he laughed. “It’s not funny! What ever am I going to wear back to Hufflepuff?” You accepted the towel, taking a step forward to wack his chest for laughing. He fake a flinch, watching you with a smirk as you entertained him with a better view of your naked body just before you covered it with the towel. “What are you smiling at?” 

“Well, genius, your options are a towel or something of mine. Just admiring the view,” he remarked, sarcastically. His towel just hung on a poor side-tuck, exposing the curious, sensual curve of his torso before the wool fabric. He caught you peeking and casted a wink down towards you, closing the gap with a hold on your cheek. “I am ready and more than willing for a second run if you fancy it. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself while trying so hard to resist me, love.” You licked his palm, causing him to flinch away and rub his now slick palm on the towel enclosed around your body. 

“Just admiring the view, Malfoy,” you mocked his words, playfully shoving him out of the way to begin drying the droplets from your skin. Draco chuckled, using a spare towel to shake through his damp strands, still watching your movements. “Any chance you’d want a photograph? Rumor is they last longer.” He came up behind you, fingertips brushing barely against the soft skin of your shoulders. You froze, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to resist rolling back into his touch. His touch lingered, sending shivers down your spine that had you involuntarily coiling with the smallest hint of his contact. 

“Why would I need it to last longer, when I can have you whenever I want,” you tried not to react immediately to his cruel, but true statement. He leaned into your ear, lips right beside your earlobe as he teasingly dragged his tongue from the base of your earlobe to the height of your cartilage. You caved again, this time turning to face him as you committed to playing his game. You looked up at him, hand shooting out to grip the sides of his jaw between the curve of your thumb and index finger. You teased him down to your lips, his kiss impatiently awaiting for your lips. Instead, you ran your tongue gently along the length of his bottom lip. 

“Pity I’m not yours to have,” you swore back, releasing his face with no satisfaction of a kiss as Draco’s playful expression hardened instantly. You turned, pulling open the bathroom door and stepping back into the raw space of his bedroom. You could have admitted to hearing a growl echo behind you from the bottom of Draco’s throat, but could barely acknowledge it’s sound before Draco’s footsteps boomed out the door after you. In a swift hoist, he’d managed to scoop you up and fall onto the bed with you below him. He was cautious not to fall entirely on top of you, hovering with an arm beside your head while his hand fastened around your neck. You melted into his assertive overpowerment, Draco’s eyes sharp with a clear loss in his temper with your sardonic sarcasm, but evident truth. 

“That is where you are mistaken--” you didn’t let him finish his pointless gesture, refusing to cower at his dominance. You laughed in his face, disregarding the tension on your throat, resilience running through your veins as you cut him off. 

“I am not, actually. I am not property, Draco, so I am not yours to claim!” You informed him, the grip on your throat disappearing when he pulled himself off of you. You missed his warmth, but remained laying in his soft sheets. You noticed these ones felt thicker, notably softer and fluffier than the prior worn ones, relaxing into their comfort as Draco crossed the room to his trunk. He sorted through clothes while he finished toweling himself off. “Especially when you still refuse to allow me means of entry into the humanity you hide so concealed inside.” 

“I owe you nothing,” he shot back, pulling on a pair of trousers just before you finally shot up out of his bed. You held the towel closed, narrowing your eyes towards him with a couple steps closer. You were careful not to get too close, knowing he’d simply touch you again and you’d hopelessly unravel at his feet. Odd thing, this soulmate of yours. 

“Then you will not treat me as if I am a possession of yours!” you declared, raising your voice just enough to get your point across. Draco watched, unamused and unconvinced with a roll of his bastardly blue eyes. “I am true to myself solely,” you continued, watching the amusement return to his features. 

“Must you always be so stubbornly difficult all the time?” He pulled on a pair of night pants, pine and charcoal plaid with a string in the front. He didn’t tie it, instead, he tossed you a shirt and a spare pair of pants. You turned your back on him and slipped on his pants first, quickly shimmying into the legs and then throwing the tee over your head. You faced him again, not surprised to see him facing you, knowing he watched you the entire time. 

“My behavior is justifiable considering your recurring rejection and damning denial,” you chimed, sneering the truth with a fake smile. He made you so upset, but you never wanted him to know how much he was able to get inside your mind. He was toying with you, and it brought him merriment to do so. 

“Tell me,” he abruptly found a new topic. “What does that Weasley want with you? Your spectacle in the corridor this morning was quite fascinating.” You recalled your short conversation with George in the hall outside of Professor Moody’s class and raised your brows, hands folding over themselves.  
“Jealous, Malfoy?” you sang, a smug smile slightly complimenting your brims. “It is not flattering on you.” Draco was not interested in badgering, annoyingly not taking any account of your taunts, feet carrying him closer to you. 

“Answer the question,” he repeated strictly, the hardness not in faltering with his hard stare down at you. You shook your head, as if he had the nerve to try and demand answers about what you and George were discussing earlier.

“I owe you nothing,” you used his own words against him, a provocative purse in your lips daring him to challenge your mocking remark. “No explanation, not the smallest candor or truths about my life,” you explained, eyes still focused solely on keeping your composure. 

“Someone is getting a bit defensive,” Draco commented, stealing the smirk from your expression whilst you beckoned a step back to keep him at bay. “Hiding something, y/n? Enlighten me on your secrets, love.” He followed you and you became annoyed instead of concerned. 

“Maybe you should try earning my favor rather than just assuming you are entitled,” you pressed a hand to his bare chest to keep the space between you. He pressed his firm build into your palm as you held it there, a seductive enticement of his tongue crossing over his bottom lip making your stomach knot with envy. It was still strange to want to punch him and kiss him in the same instance. 

“Boring, I’m quite content with just fucking you,” he admitted, a sour sting to your gut confirming that you did just want to hit him. You sighed, retracting your hand and stressfully raking it through your still damp strands. 

“And with that, I’m going to go,” you nodded, defeat once again tearing you down after yet again, another pleasurable but emotionally devastating encounter with your cowardly, foolish soulmate. 

“If I may, a word of wise advice, perhaps you should try being less sensitive, babe,” you were about to turn your back on him, but hands curling at your side kept you in place. He always had some plucky audacity to imprudently impose such moronic boldness, always out of line and dastardly. You would let him win, maybe over your corpse. Not even then, really, you would haunt his ass from the beyond before you dared to let him think he triumphed. 

“If we’re offering witless, hopeless advice, you should consider not being such a repulsive, arrogant ass,” you crossed the room to stand in front of him, hoisting him against your frame by the loose strands of his night pants. You brought yourself up onto the extent of your toes to level yourself with him, pressing a soft peck to his cheek. “Goodnight Draco.”

“Goodnight, love,” he called after you, a bit delayed as you’d already made an escape and managed to disappear out the bedroom door. He stood in place for another moment, before leaning against his trunk and grinning down at the floor. He thought of you for the better sum of the rest of the night. God, you were absolutely foolish and consummately exquisite. 

You only get a few hours of sleep, nearly getting caught on your way back from Draco’s last night, but also needing to join the twins to aid in brewing their dumb and impractical aging potion. You are quiet not to wake up Elle, sneaking up to the third floor before the sun fully dawned on the horizon. You lingered by the windows to take in the beauty of the sunrise, the sky painted in rich shades of deep peach and bright marigold, perfectly fazing with the dark blue blanket harboring tiny stars. 

“You beat me,” you twitched in surprise, spinning around to face the same goofy grin you’d seen just the other day. Even in the dim light of dawn, George was still buoyant, a joyous spring in his step when he approached your side. 

“Just barely, you caught me stopping to admire the sunrise,” you explained, beaming right back. He paused beside you to glance out the window, too. He nodded in agreement. 

“Still, no beauty compares to that of you, lovely y/n,” George sighed, his gaze still on the skyline in the distance. You bowed your head to try and hide the blush on your cheeks, a tap breezing through your fingers against the windowsill. “Shall we?”

“Is it not too early for charming compliments, George?” you raised a rosy brow towards him, still trying not to smile too widely. You were sure it was just him being cheeky like always, but it continued to have your cheeks sheepishly pink. You poked your head around his shoulder to try and find his shadow, “aren’t we awaiting your brother’s attendance?”

George pushed off the wall and took a couple steps towards the lavatory door, pausing to wait for your accompaniment. “Rubbish. Never early when you happen to be in the presence of a graceful wonder like yourself. I should consider myself humbly honored to make your company this first light,” George admitted, your cheeks immediately setting ablaze with pink turning to scarlet red. He put zestful butterflies in your stomach that sparkled through your insides with nerves, fingers knitting together when a giggle slipped from your brims. You followed him after a shy second, an eager skip to your pace. “I had no luck dragging Freddie out of bed, damn bloke can sleep until high noon if one lets him.”

“George,” you breathed his name, a tender tilt to your head as you stood before him right in the doorway. You didn’t realize the slim space in the doorway, barely separating your frames while he held the door wide for you. “You have me blushing like a complete fool, why are you always so kind to me?” 

George grinned down at you, a comfortable tip into the frame behind him. “I am heavily fond of the delight I am gifted whilst in your amity, young Huffle,” George explained, a finger stretching out to tuck the stray curl hovering in your eyes behind your ear. You were out of breath, physically unable to draw in an inhale while beaming up at George, smile and bloom to your cheeks unfaltering. He let the hand fall to your shoulder, ushering you inside with a glisten of excited nerves. You cleared your throat with another step inside the bathroom, noticing George had already taken it upon himself to arrange a small cauldron and a couple of basic potion-making ingredients. 

“And I, the very equivalent to your company as well, George,” you finally chimed in reply, setting your tote beside the cauldron and plopping down onto the tile with your legs folded in your lap. George strung along behind you, seating his lengthy thin form beside your own. He sat a bit too close, brushing his shoulder against your own when he sat, you held your tongue, not minding the adjacency. 

“Yet, to be granted a second of your presence is to always reside to the greatest and finest. No equal compares to that of your nature,” George recited. You paused whilst removing smaller ingredients from your tote, having already researched this potion extensively just other afternoon. He cleared his throat, inching a slight scoot to return some space while you stirred in his compliments. George was much more charmingly pleasant than you remembered, not sure how serious to take his words. 

“Has your heart always beat in poetry?” you inquired, a curiosity to his sudden friendliness that you had actually noticed as early as that day in Diagon Alley. He was still speaking in elegiac tongues. “You make it sound like you’re reciting Shakespeare or Marlowe.”

“Sadly, not at all. Alas, my heart beats damning truth which obviously passes through my lips without the smallest consideration from my mind. I am sorry if I have overstepped--” George frowned in on himself while attempting to apologize. Without much consideration from your own mind, your hand shot out and placed itself atop his arm to cut him off. You met his ashamed eyes with a shake of your head. “Just George.” 

“You can’t take it back, I’m already curious,” you joked, giving his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. George smiled shortly, still trying to brush it off. He’d honestly just let the words fall, still caught up in being with you in the moment, it wasn’t until he’d said them that he actually heard them. “I happen to enjoy the honest work of Just George.” 

“Perhaps I shall consider poetry, with a brilliant alias such as Just George, it’s already a success. I’m sorry, it was foolish--” George tried to joke, anxious hand striking through his hair. 

“It was sweet,” you cut him off to clarify, removing your hand and returning to work on the potion. George mulled it over for another moment and you hummed through a yawn. 

“I apologize for disrupting your beauty sleep,” George was fighting off his own yawn after seeing your own, an accidental chain-reaction that had you both in short laughs. 

“Not as much as it must have disturbed your own, sleeping beauty,” you mocked, dripping the extract from a small vial and tossing another beaker in your palm. George nudged your arm and you nearly lost your precise balance. “Remember, this is your potion, not my own. If you cause me to make a mistake, you may accidentally turn into a dog. Besides, I just didn’t rest much this evening,”

“I could pass as a dog. The ladies actually happen to fancy dogs,” George sent you a short apologetic gaze, reclining onto his palms behind him. “Might there be a reason why?”

“Oh please, you’d be a stray mongrel, ” you teased jokingly, shaking your head. Truthfully, you had returned to your dormitory after another unsuccessful argument with Draco and just couldn’t stop thinking about him. What life were you making for yourself, strung along with no chance of ever being good enough for Draco to accept? The last thing you needed was to actually be concerned with wanting to be with him. You couldn’t want that. “Just settling back into being at Hogwarts.”

George hesitated, seeing the life drain from your features as the worry and unease set back in. You hadn’t noticed, but George’s eyes flashed to where your hand softly trembled while pouring the beaker into the cauldron. “Forgive me, but you are not all that convincing,” George extended his own hand and slipped the glass from your hands. He took over, the worry miserably held on your pale complexion. “You can speak with me, I am more than just good looks and foolish words.” 

“Thank you. Just the remainder of that one,” you pointed out, kneading your palms over the fabric of your skirt. “I couldn’t possibly burden such a beautiful boy,” you swallowed your nerves, forcing a smile in George’s directions while he leaned across you. “I’m fine, George, truly.”

“If you insist,” he finished with the beaker and caught a glimpse of an object half-hidden under the fold of your bag. Your attention was sorting through the remainder of the ingredients while pondering their order, George quickly stealing the strap of your bag and stealthily dragging it from behind you. You were unfastening the cork on the last liquid’s tube when you heard the sound of him chewing beside you.

“George!” you exclaimed, striking the side of his knee while he happily munched on a banana required for the potion. “The bananas are for the potion, not you, dork!” You laughed, stealing the banana yourself. With what was left, it really was no use to even attempt to save it. You picked off a piece and tossed it into your mouth, then handed it back to him. 

“Just as well, not fond of bananas,” he responded, a scrunch to his nose as he took another bite. You raised a brow to his logic, giggling to yourself.

“Yet, you have gobbled on our limited supply and continue to eat it? I had to swipe them from the great hall,” you stated, trying to connect the senseless dots while continuing. “You should have seen the look I received from Professor Sprout, she must think I’m mad for bananas. Truthfully, I could not care for them either. I am much more keen on apples…” your voice trailed off, eyes widening as a dryness scoured your throat. You seemed to freeze in place, no intention of actually admitting any of this aloud. 

You were overjoyed that George had no recognition of your shameful admission, numb limbs struggling to move normally. But of course, not just any apples, now. Green apples that smell of sourness and delectable sugar, even the thought of just apples had your senses alerted to Draco. You remembered his conditioner, a mince of mint on your tongue and his rich cologne killing your nostrils. George continued, relaxed and stretched out while finishing the banana in his grasp. You begged yourself to focus on him again, trying to cleanse the sentiment that scorched your senses prompting you to anchor around him. 

“Hm, apples? Apricots myself,” George included obliviously. “Although, I was offered a rather delectable dirigible plum from a Ravenclaw girl just the other day. Little bit of a loon, really, but nice she was,” he launched, your head tilting at the mention of such a bland fruit. 

“Apricots? A ghastly choice of fruit. I must have missed when you became an old geezer,” you retorted, laughing through the words with a small tilt came to the curiosity of his story. “A dirigible plum? I’ve only read about them in Herbology books! Someone at Hogwarts actually carries about these fruits? I have longed to try one, I may eventually have to track down your new fruity friend.” You had read about these magical plums awhile ago, not really believing someone at Hogwarts could just casually be giving them away. They were rare, and required special planting and care. 

“An old geezer is the desired outcome of this potion. A fruit critic, are you?” George mentioned, realistically. “It may be quite easy. For the life of me, I have come to realize she never wears shoes. What use do we have for this gross ingredient, if I may ask?” He picked up the tiny beaker which held an even tinier maroon sliver inside, carefully removing the top before you could stop him. 

“No, our desired outcome is just a couple of years to jinx the age line drawn by Headmaster Dumbledore. That would be the spleen of a newt,” you warned just a tad too late, the gross odor had already vexed both of you. You held your finger to your nose, shaking your head with George sneering, almost gagging at the smell. “Very pungent.”

“Pungent?” He asked, quickly emptying the spleen into the cauldron while you gave it a good stir with a wooden spoon. “God, it has an odor that I would suspect of Hagrid’s shoes as it is stuffed in my nose.” George joked, causing you both to burst out into laughter at the idea. You threw yourself backwards in a fit, nearly falling into George. 

“Or possibly Filch’s vest?” You offered, only causing another round of giggles to escape both of you as George prepared his next joke. 

“Or--” his statement died in his throat at the sound of a voice startling both of you. 

“That is quite sufficient,” you both went cold in defeat, laughter ceasing immediately. You both knew who it was before you turned, slow spins to look up at the figure in black that stood behind you. “What do we have here?” 

“Professor Snape,” George and you uttered at the same time, all humor slaughtered in the air with terrified tension replacing it. Professor Snape glared down at both of you, his eyes loitering in especially frown towards you. You bowed your head while George rose to his feet, stiffly. 

“Please, sir, it was just I who coerced y/n into brewing a potion with me--” your lips parted, ready to argue with George. His first instinct was to take the blame, but you were just complicit in being in the lavatory, even if it was at his request. You didn’t get the chance to argue, Snape hushing George eminently as he tried to formulate the excuse. 

“Silence, Weasley!” Snape scowled. “Are you trying to fool what I have just seen with my own eyes? You are both guilty. Do not make me repeat myself,” Snape was still expecting an admission, but if you did answer truthfully, you would both face even bigger consequences for attempted cheating. 

“It is nothing--” George tried again, your entire body still concreted to the floor. You wanted to get up and argue your case beside George, but you couldn’t peel yourself from the tile. Snape snapped, attention solely on George, to grant you an awful idea. You cautiously and quickly dipped two glass tubes into the cauldron while George’s skinny frame almost covered you. You corked both of them and buried them with your hands in your pockets. 

“Weasley, you have exhausted your final warning! You had been advised that another act of deviance between either of you blimey Weasley twins would grant you expulsion,” Snape raised his tone, lacking any patience to actually listen to what George had to say. You climbed to your feet, the punishment weighing heavily on George’s defeated expression. You felt for him, remorse and sympathy swirling inside of you and urging your lips to move for him. 

“It was I, sir,” you inserted yourself, pulling George by the arm so you could take his place directly in front of Snape. “He lied, I beseeched George and it was I who begged for his help. I refused to take no for an answer. This was my plan, my potion.” George tried to push around you, but you held your ground protectively guarding him behind your own, smaller frame. 

“Y/n--” George quarreled. You cut him off, needing Snape to believe you were the mastermind. You didn’t think. Hearing his voice beginning to form your name made you panic for your not so well thought out plan. Without conscious, you raised your foot and sent it backwards directly into his foot. You hadn’t stomped on it, per se, but you didn’t just kindly tap on it. George silenced immediately, your name turning into a winced groan in his throat. 

“George, I will not let you get into trouble for what I had pressured you into!” You declared, still staring straight up at Snape. Professor Snape was still stone-cold, his glare held no determent, he was unconvinced and growing more irritated with both of you by the minute. 

“Enough!” Snape announced loudly, his voice almost echoing off the walls of the lavatory. He folded his arms with his cape, dismissing George’s presence. “Since you claim it is your potion, Miss l/n, explain yourself.” You removed your foot from atop George’s, now rocking on your own anxious heels while the lies jumbled together in your mind the second he asked. George was panicking mentally too, your silence becoming too long just as your lips parted. 

“We have an upcoming exam in Arithmancy. George was assisting me with a wit-sharpening potion,” you lied in a single exhale, not even putting the facts together when they fell from your tongue. Snape was still not buying any of it, his gaze catching on the banana peel resting to the side of George’s shoes, then flashing back up towards you, narrowly. You followed his gaze, cursing yourself at the known fact that bananas did not make the recipe for wit-sharpening potion like the strong scent of newt’s spleen. 

“Wit-sharpening potion? What a poor fabrication,” Professor Snape deemed, causing your shoulders to shrink in loss. “Five points each. Detention this afternoon with Professor Hagrid. Am I clear?” You and George straightened, completely dumbfounded and still doubting his punishment. 

“Yes, sir,” you both stumbled to admit, nodding your head in complete agreement. The risk of expulsion to George turning to five points and detention sounded like a dream deal. Snape’s sinister scowl was not finished. 

“You should be fortunate enough I have no interest in writing to your family, y/n. I expected better this term,” Snape sneered, the harsh tone causing your fingers to knit together behind your back, vials still crammed into the depths of your pockets. You hated the disappointment, a quiver in your chest forcing you to accept the dismay with a dinge of dignity, still emotionally attaching to his words. You remembered the consideration he’d shown you in help last term and the sentiment of him appearing disappointed with you did inflict pain in your ribcage. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you expressed your regret, loyalty to George and his well-being still overpowering your intentions. If you were to be given a second chance, you would accept the blame all over again rather than watch George be sent away. 

“Dismissed, both of you,” Snape released you, George already scooping both of your bags from the floor as you spun around to snatch your belongings. 

“Yes, sir--” George started, your steps already racing your slippers towards the escape when Snape’s obvious scowl scared you both. 

“Leave the potion, Weasley!” Snape yelled, George’s hand recanting immediately from his reaching for the cauldron. You tried to come up with a rational reason why George would think it was okay to take the potion after being caught and became slightly embarrassed for both of you knowing he wasn’t thinking. 

“Oh! Yes, sir,” George repeated, stiffing a smile when he dropped his head down and hurried after you out the door, almost crashing into you as you both ran for it. You tried to walk with him, but your feet were running ahead of you. 

“Y/n, I am speechless. Thank you, honestly, for covering for me. That was quite remarkable, y/n,” George praised you, ready to bow at your feet at that example of prime fabricating. You grabbed his sleeve and dragged him along faster, needing to get far from that bathroom as soon as possible. 

“Don’t worry about it, Georgie,” you brushed it off, not really knowing whether or not it would have been safe to assume he would have done the same. “I am rarely in trouble, a bit of consequence keeps it interesting. Besides, I get more time to waste away with you.” You swerved into his shoulder, letting your head land upon the length of his upper arm. It was only when either of the twins were looking down at you or standing beside you that you actually recognized how lanky they were. 

“Oh come on, you’re dying of anticipation,” George leaned into your side, eyes falling upon your head on his arm with bliss. You laughed, your feet spinning around the corner as you pulled him to a stop once you were certainly alone. 

“I sure am,” you sang right back, eyes darting once more around the hall and then sending your hand diving into your pockets. You retrieved the vials and stuffed them into the inside pocket of George’s robe. “Remember, just a drop or two for each of you! Tell your brother.” He wasn’t listening, even more amazed that you had managed to acquire any portion of the potion. 

“How did you manage—” you raised your hand to silence his loud, excited tone. He patted the pocket of his robe from the outside. 

“That is my secret,” you declared, returning the blossoming beam occupying his brims. He was still waiting and you caved with a sigh, “I stole it when he was yelling at you.” 

“You,” George declared in an admiration of worship, clasping either side of your cheeks in his soft palms. You became a rose under his touch, no longer just your cheeks that burned flush pink. “You magnificent, brilliant, glorious goddess!” George nearly lifted you from the ground by just your face, tilting your head so that he could smash a kiss to your cheek. “I owe you! I owe you so much! I will see you this afternoon in detention!” He dropped his grip, but his touch still remained in a heat on your skin. Even as he walked away, backwards, still cheering for you.

“Just a bit more clever than yourself,” you whispered after him, your voice strained and straggled from the butterflies bunching in your throat. It felt like they had spread everywhere but the red in his kiss that still flushed a deep blush to your cheek. “Yeah…” it was the only goodbye you could utter, still dazed out of your mind. You wouldn’t have known who Draco was in this moment, a wave of complete serene felicity flooding your veins. You strode through the hall slowly once George had disappeared, voices echoing through the corridor whilst students began to travel to class. You were smiling to yourself, as red as a ripe tomato, hand hesitantly raised to cover the surprise in your goofy grin. You kicked yourself repeatedly, knowing you were going to be late to class. You were just trying to swallow your excitement for detention. 

After class, you made your way to the courtyard for lunch to reunite with Cedric and Elle, who’d already been enjoying their food, spread out along the grass with a couple other Hufflepuffs. You hurried over and exchanged notes for Charms class with Elle, never a chance she would actually do them herself when she attended the class later. You were stealing berries from Cedric’s bowl when the realization stuck and you pounced up to your feet, quickly mentioning your leave for detention. 

“You? Detention? You're joking," Cedric laughed, searching your face for signs of comedy as you packed the remainder of your supplies into your tote and fastening the top clasp of your robe. His laughter was cut short when you actually stood, tucking the strap of your back over your shoulder. "What ever for? We've only been in classes for a couple of days." Elle was still munching on her chips, attentively listening and following Cedric's curiosity with full cheeks. 

"Why are you so surprised? I can be mischievous," you declared right back, noticing the blatant shock and disbelief from both of your friends. Cedric scoffed and Elle grinned through her chewing. You were still securing your bag to your side when their attention pulled to your side. 

"Ready, lovely Huffle?" you jumped again, clutching your bag tightly while rolling your eyes. George had appeared at your side, and the others joined him in humor from your display of jumpy nerves, You thwacked your fingers against his arm, calming yourself down from the small fright he'd induced upon you. 

"George? You received detention as well?" Elle questioned, finally swallowed her giant mouthful and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Cedric finished the thought. 

"What have you done to corrupt her, Wealsey?" Cedric asked, a curious furrow curved in his brow. You and George exchanged a glance. As always, when faced with that goofy grin, you were smiling again yourself, the brief memory of his sweet sentiments squandering your brain. You were red again, and both of your friends noticed, looking between themselves in bafflement. 

"Strictly confidential, young Huffles," George replied with a quick diversion, his shoulder swaying into yours. Cedric was more bothered than he let on, but you hadn't noticed through Elle's wide eyes, staring into your soul for answers. George didn't care that Cedric was older than himself, he was still young. 

"What do you mean con--" Cedric dug again for answers, brows winkling together. He needed an answer, but George’s sarcastic snicker interrupted the upcoming interrogation. 

"Wow, I would really love to stay and chat, but we have some consequences to attend to for our actions," George stole your hand and was whirling you the opposite direction back into the building. You tried to spin around to say goodbye, nearly losing your balance if not for George’s grip on your hand bringing you right back.

"Bye guys!" You called, tripping over your own feet in a dizzy dance to return to a functioning walk with George’s pointless rush. You laughed, not minding the soft hold on your hand. 

"Wait, y/n..." Cedric’s voice trailed off while you rounded the corner and vanished from view of the courtyard. You hurried to keep up with George’s long legs, trailing behind unintentionally with George in full navigation mode. 

Detention was held in a spare classroom on the second floor, Hagrid just happened to be Professor monitoring for that day. Meaning you were both extremely lucky. You raced down the staircase, George almost tripping you while you both teased and laughed. 

"Hey Hagrid," George chimes, hopping into the classroom to greet Hagrid before you even make it into the door. You curse him under your breath with a scrunch to your nose. Hagrid gives a husky grin towards George as you trail behind, whacking his arm with the charms journal. 

"Professor Hagrid, you mean," you corrected George while coming to his side. Goerge attempts to steal the book back from you but you yank it away. He almost goes for it again, but Hagrid catches him. 

"Ah! Thank you, Miss l/n. It's alright, I prefer Hagrid over Professor. Plus, I can’t blame him, neither of these Weasleys are very… bright, if you know what I mean," Hagrid tries not to utter more than a chuckle at his insult directed towards George, who scoffed dramatically in reply. You didn't hold back the laughter, pulling your book to your chest while stepping around George to sign your name on the log. 

"Hagrid, I am beyond offended," George whined, an entire charade of hurt casted upon his expression. Hagrid huffed to himself, turning in his chair as if to plain ignore George. You drew the ink in a final curve, tossing it at George who flailed ridiculously to catch it. He failed, the pen clattering on the ground and proceeding to roll away while George chased it. Other students began to trickle in, a group of Slytherins, smaller handfuls of Ravenclaw and Gryffindors and you, the only Hufflepuff. 

"You're not mistaken, Professor Hagrid," you tried to whisper, exchanging a stealthy glance with Hagrid, who nodded obviously. You laughed again as George returned, having heard your snide agreement. 

"Hey!" George called, quickly thrashing his head to look between you and Hagrid in shocked disapproval. You stifled a giggle, bowing your head with a slight step backwards. 

"It isn’t rude. You substitute that you do not have in brains with wit and jokes," Hagrid explained, trying to twist the words so that he was not so hurt. It wasn’t working and for some reason, you thought you could help. 

"And playful poetry, Just George," you chimed in, earning a playful glare from George. You sunk back into your step, giggling to yourself. 

"You are both insanely incorrect. Obviously, I have special skills in both wit and jokes, but I am a natural genius. Sure, my cleverness does not compare to that of lovely y/n or someone like Granger, but I am unquestionably the intelligent half of Freddie and myself," George stated, articulated reality to his words while you cleared your throat and slowly began tracing your steps towards the desks. 

"Bummer that it appears to be you biding your time in detention, not your brother," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear before making your escape. He threw the pen after you and you managed to catch it and wield it back at his head, watching it bounce back onto the desk with a fist raised in victory. Even Hagrid chuckled heavily, chiming in.

“She’s got a point there, Weasley--,” George threw his hand up, scrunching his nose sourly and sloppily signing his own name before following you to find a seat. 

"Okay, we get it Hagrid!" George groaned, throwing himself down into the desk beside you. "I'll just go ahead and disappear," he sent Hagrid a sneered smile and then proceeded to drop his head onto the desk with a drawn-out sigh. 

"Awfully wonderful performance. Loved the dramatics, Mr. Weasley," you mocked from beside him, removing your pen and journal from the inside of your bag. He squished his cheek on the wood and rolled his face to look at you.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I’ve thought about ditching this whole twin-thing and pursuing a one-man theatrical performance.” You and George shared a desk, silent bickering back and forth most of the time while you doodled and he criticized. 

“It looks like a dead bird.”

“It is a butterfly.” 

“Nope, it is just bad.” 

“Jerk!”

“L/n, you’ve got to stop hitting Weasley,” Hagrid frowned at the sound of your slap across the back of George’s head. You sunk in your chair, nodding your head.

“Yes, Professor Hagrid. Sorry, sir.” 

“You’re abusing me,” George whispered in a soft whine, glad you were caught hitting him by the Professor. You glared over your shoulder at him. 

“You deserve it for being mean to my doodles,” you stuck your tongue out at him and he mocked your actions. 

“Genuine question, why did you kill the bird?” 

“It’s not a damn--!” You were sad that the slap forming in your hand was stopped by the door flying open.The trio rushed in and Ron paused long enough to wave his fingers towards George, who returned the greeting. 

“Sorry, Hagrid, we need your help,” Hermoine requested, glancing around the room. She smiled in your direction and you grinned back, politely. Hagrid shifted in his seat, motioning towards all of you in the desks. 

“Can’t this wait?” Hagrid asked, clearly in the middle of supervising detention. You and George exchanged a short glance, leaning forward in your seats. 

“No, not exactly,” Harry explained, thrashing his noggin in the direction of the door. George slammed his hands on the tabletop, rising immediately.

“Damn it, Hagrid! The kids need your help! I will attend to things here, you are free to go,” George cleared his throat dramatically, kicking out his chair and making a tall strive for the front of the room. Ron rolled his eyes at his brother, shaking his head while following an eager Hermoine right out the door. Harry waited for Hagrid to give in, which came just a moment after short consideration. 

“Thank you, Weasley,” Hagrid thanked George on his way out after the others, groaning in slow steps. George gave him a little salute as he left, tossing himself down onto Hagrid’s chair and kicking up his feet. You watched, overly amused just as he clapped his hand down upon the desk again. 

“Alright! Get out of here before I change my mind and make you all complete my classwork for the entire term,” George stated, bouncing out of the chair again. No one hesitated to take his offer, you just laughed while the others made a run for it. He filed them out and then turned back towards where you sat. 

“What have you done that for? What if someone finds out and they blame it on Professor Hagrid?” You asked, sinking deeper into your chair. Your nerves were beginning to set in for Hagrid since George had so carelessly let them all go. He strolled back over to where you sat. 

“Who is going to know? In my eyes, they served their time,” George clarified, jumping up onto your desk and crossing his legs in a butterfly-sit. You laughed at him, still slipping lower. 

“Can we be dismissed as well?” You asked, a curious tilt of your head. George perched his head upon his hands while his elbows balanced on his knees, scrunching his nose and pursuing his lips in thought.

“Nope,” he declared, energetically popping back onto his feet and making you jump a bit. “Not you, young Huffle! You, my dear, you need art lessons and I am willing to share my expertise.” You cocked a brow at his confidence, rising out of your seat and tucking away your book. 

“You? George. Come on, it is such a nice day—“ George cut you off with a click of his tongue, pressing his fingers into his ears and spinning in circles. 

“Lalala!” He shout-sang, dancing around the desks. “Nope! No! As Professor of Detention Art, your participation is mandatory. Retrieve a canvas and paints from the art cupboard,” he directed you towards the back of the classrooms. You twittered your knees in anxious shifts, throwing your head back in submission. 

“Fine,” you agreed, stomping off and pulling the art equipment from the shelves inside the cabinet. You decided on just a few solid bottles of paint, balancing them in your arm and sorting through a row of canvases. 

“Thatta girl,” George echoed behind you, arms pulling behind his back and slipping his robe off. He carelessly threw it onto Hagrid’s chair and then proceeded to roll up his sleeves. 

“Not going to help?” You called back, struggling to balance all of the supplies on your own hands. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps, but his hand shot out right beside your hair to catch a falling canvas. You caught your breath solid in your throat, freezing your body with him right behind you. You tried to pry off the blush, but it was already on its way into your cheeks. 

“Gosh, can’t even give me a moment?” George asked, plucking a few out of place bottles and brushes from your hand. He dragged easels into the center of the classroom and you both set up blank canvases. 

“No, I’m impatient,” you clarified, straightening yourself in front of your own canvas. You noted his surprisingly wise decision to keep his uniform clean, pulling the sleeves off your robe and then riding your body of the wool charcoal vest. You were still trying to visualize a nice piece for the canvas, not noticing that George had completely zoned out on watching you undress. You wiggled the knot of your tie to give your neck space, letting it hang loosely. You glanced over to George and he immediately yanked his head to the side to pretend like he hadn’t been blatantly and shamelessly staring. 

“What will we be painting this afternoon, Professor Weasley?” you joked, using the spare plum purple ribbon circled around your left wrist to tie your hair back so it was of the way. George was forced to loosen his own tie, the revelation of the tight curves hidden under your robe and vest causing a hitch in his breathing. You hadn’t even noticed, skipping over to the sink to fill a glass partially with water and returning to the canvas, expectantly. 

“You obviously don’t know what a butterfly looks like, even though that note thingy seems to be full of poorly attempted butterfly doodles—dead birds— anyways, perhaps we should start with that,” George joked, earning him a launched paint brush aimed clearly for his head. Sadly, he ducked in time and you missed. 

“That is a threat. Talk about my butterflies like that again and you’ll get more than just a paint brush,” you warned, dipping your brush into the pear-colored paint and beginning to draw soft swirls on the canvas.

“Nice strokes, lines and such, colors…” George trailed off, sloppily whirling his own paintbrush in sangria spirals. He had no guidance, but still collected himself tall. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked, angling your brush to begin the contoured shapes of a wing. George groaned, quickly winding his brush in even more chaotic lines. 

“I suppose. We aren’t in the midst of a crucial art lesson, but proceed,” George kid, grin forming on the dramatics of his brims. 

“I can’t remember much about what happened at your party,” you admitted, still unable to put clear pictures together. You were dancing one minute, and then waking up in Draco’s the next, with no recollection of how you got there. You were hoping after a couple of days, you would begin to remember, but nothing ever came back. George hummed at the memory, chuckling under his breath.

“Ah indeed, good times. Yes, it seemed like you may have had a couple drinks, but you were in your prime, young Huffle. You were energetic and honestly funny. You danced most of the night and spent the remainder falling around,” George clarified, eyes bobbing between you and his work. You sighed to yourself, still trying to find the missing pieces. 

“I remember dancing and laughing, and then it all goes dark,” you recalled. You did remember the music, you remembered Draco hiding around the corner like a coward, as if he was embarrassed to be seen speaking with you, and you vaguely remembered being insanely close to George. You think you were dancing and you were shoved against him, and you both just froze in the moment, unsure but eager. 

“You may have passed out somewhere along the way. I had just begun arguing with Malfoy—” he started, your head snapping up immediately. Your brush halted to an immediate stop in it’s trail of the thin body, now staring at George with an intense curiosity. 

“Draco? What about?” You questioned anxiously and rather enthusiastically. You tried to catch the tone before it escaped, but you made it sound like you were excited by the mention of his name. You didn’t remember any argument between Draco and George, George was not a very controversial or confrontational person, unless it was sarcastic. 

“He offered to take you home and I told him it wasn’t necessary,” George hadn’t noticed your change in tone. He was fully arched to the side, George’s front half slouched over to his left to drag the brush in more precise jumbles. “Apparently you got clever and had snuck off while we were discussing it. I looked for you, but Elle must have come back and got you back safely.” You had never gotten a chance to properly apologize to Elle, knowing she must have come back to the party and lost her mind when you were nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, you were having the best sleep of your life in Draco’s bed. You pushed the memories from your mind, clearing your throat and returning to guide your brush against the surface of the canvas. 

“Yeah,” you uttered simply, saving inwards with failed efforts to exist in the moment rather than inside your head. You had time to reflect later, right now, you were supposed to be enjoying art “lessons” with Weasley. He added a few more quick jiffs of his brush and then darted it behind his ear in a proud completion.

“Vuela,” he chimed, proudly, throwing his arms into the air and then strolling over to glance over your shoulder. He sighed, placing a sad hand before his mouth and whispering, “oh gosh, another deceased bird.” You spun around so fast. 

“George!” you yelled, paintbrush stuck out as if you were wielding a sword up at him. He laughed, jumping back with his hands out, cautiously trying to avoid your pursuit with the paint covered tip of the brush challenging him. 

“Hey, y/n! Watch the green, alright?” he urged, instantly regretting his comment with the threat of paint. You gave the brush a small jab in his direction. 

“Take it back!” He hesitated, realizing he was running out of room with the wall behind him. George swallowed, a wide smile backed with a hesitant stutter.

“You mean recant the truth? It would be wrong of me to lie,” George admitted, deciding to step around the desks so that he could start off in the direction of his own paints. It was only fair he too was armed. 

“George,” you gave him a last warning, catching his intended drift back towards his supplies. You cut him off, beating him to his supplies and trading out your sword-brush for the entire bottle of red paint. George gasped, hand stuck out firmly to keep the space between you. He was worried now, to say the least. 

“Okay, okay! We can defuse this situation, let’s just take a deep breath,” George daunted backwards again, following your every testing move, “and put the red down.” 

“I’m a reasonable girl, George Weasley. I will give you this last chance to take it back and compliment the beauty of my butterfly,” you settled, a last offer of peaceful negotiation that George considered heavily. You could see the gears shifting behind his eyes, sarcasm fighting with logic. 

“I…” sadly, he paused, and then proceeded to mistakenly call your bluff. “I can’t, it's the truth—y/n!” His voice raised through a loud gasp as you gave the bottle a good squeeze in his direction and red paint splattered his uniform. You felt bad, not intentionally meaning to ruin his clothing that much while George froze, still not believing what you had done. “You did not.” 

You were laughing, the regret being only temporary in comparison to the humor. “I did,” you took responsibility through puffs between the fit of laughter. “It’s what you deserve, now I have spilt the blood of the birds!” You joked, losing your mind in the giggles with your head thrown back. That would be where you messed up. Your gaze was no longer on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to lunge for his paint palette. 

“Then what would you call ‘this’?” he swung the paint plate in your direction and his rainbow range of paints splashed over all of you. It was cold, splattering on the white of your shirt, the black of your skirt, the small gap of your legs where your skirt ended and just before your socks started, even your socks, were all now stained with random swashes of color. You choked on a stunned gasp, fist curling at your side while your head finally jolted up towards where George was hunched over in his own proud laughter. He didn't consider a moment of regret. 

“George! This is white! What have you done?” you whined aloud, scowling his slap-happy tantrum of comedy. At least he found it funny, you were pissed. 

“Revenge. We are equal now,” George laughed, wiping the droplets of pain that had even managed to land on his face, like fake red freckles. You were just now realizing his splatter was much smaller than yours and a single color, you were decorated like a blimey christmas tree with vibrant colors. 

“You threw your entire palette at me! That is not the same at all,” you declared obviously, a quick leap catapulting your frame towards the remainder of the paint bottles. You seized all of them before George could reach, threatening a bottle of plum purple in one hand and a cantaloupe color in the other. 

“Back up! Stop right there! Don’t you even think—Oh!” you didn’t let him finish his warning. You took a large step towards him before he could register your closeness, and then squeezed the bottles tightly, the paint shooting over him in blotchy smears across his entire uniform. 

“Oops, sorry, my hand slipped,” you backed up immediately, almost toppling into the atrocity of ‘art’ on his canvas. “At least now you’ve got some color. Violet looks good on you, Georgie,” you giggled, figuring your actions were going to be met by retaliation, but it felt worth it. 

“You’re going to be sorry about that,” George remarked, narrowing his eyes towards you. You shook your head, impossibly juggling the bottles of paint in your arm again. 

“You think so— George Weasley!” George had run at you, and you almost fell over in shock, trying to get out of his path fast enough. You didn’t make it, and your fear caused the bottles to slip from your grasp and land on the floor, almost as if you handed him the weapons. He snatched them, a vibrant, viney green and a mellow merigold, both now drained entirely down your back and over your shoulders when you’d turned to run. You squeaked out surprise, swinging your body around with an annoyed huff at the mess now staining all of you. 

“Told you so,” George confessed, only a feet or two away from you. He spun the bottle in his fingers and then blew on the top as if blowing smoke from a gun. You gritted your teeth, a gesture to re-arm yourself with paint made George flood backwards. 

“Oh, you are so dead,” you promised, shaking the paint down towards the tip to provide you with more ammunition. George snickered, a wicked smirk residing on the curl of his lips, eyes full of dare as you neared. 

“Just like the birds, how symbolic,” George teased, mimicking your motions to equally prepare himself for the commencement of your impending battle. 

“Shut up about my butterflies!” you yelled, springing forward with your paint already chasing after him. George took off to try and get himself out of the line of fire, an instinct you ambushed with every turn. 

“Never!” George shouted, both of you laughing while chasing one another around the entire classroom while paint flew everywhere. You ran after him, he circled you and reversed the hunt, dousing you with pain while you attempted to do the same up to him. When both of your bottles puffed empty air instead of color, you were both soaked and dyed in puddles of every possible color. You were also both breathless from running around one another.

“George, look at this mess!” You chucked your empty paint bottle at his head and it bonked off. “Filch is going to slaughter us.” There was paint on the floor and a bit on the walls, but it was mainly just the both of you, engulfed in layers of varnish colors. 

“It’s your fault. You started it with the red,” George pointed out, tossing his own towards you. You ducked in time, letting it rattle on the floor. 

“You needed to be punished for your crimes against my butterflies!” you justified your actions, hands pressed to your hips while trying to catch your breath. George shook his head, pushing his hair from his face with traces of color splashed on his skin and through his lovely locks. 

“Nope! You are my art accomplice and we will both be punished equally,” George chuckled, another awful idea formulating behind those mischievous mocha eyes of his. 

“I am innocent,” you lied, laughing through an exhale as you beamed back at George, not even realizing his face of trouble. 

George took a step towards you, grin widening. “Fibber--Oh, hold on, I think I missed a spot--”

“George, No!” you squeal just as George tackles you to the ground, cradling your head to prevent you from getting hurt. He hovered over you and you were sure you’d gone absolutely cold and radiantly red at the same time. His hands were both wet with paint and he leaned in and dragged his hand from the top of your brow, across your cheek and down to your jaw. You gasped, feeling the cool paint slide over your face. His thumb brushed over your lip, leaving paint on the inside of your bottom lip as his eyes flashed from your eyes to your lips. Both of you froze in the moment, your hands reaching up slowly to drag across his own face while he groaned.

“A masterpiece,” you whispered, your breath on his lips while he peered down at you hesitantly. He grinned at your comment, brushing another strand from your eyes as it had fallen during your fight. You were sure you had paint in your hair as well as everywhere else, but the paint didn’t matter. You laid just beneath him, the chestnut in his glistening eyes making the butterflies in your stomach perform acrobatics. 

“No. You are the masterpiece, darling,” your heart skipped a beat. You were sure if you could listen closely, you could hear both of your heartbeats pacing rapidly at the same thudding rage. Nothing mattered, you weren’t worried or nervous, you were tranquil and joyous. You weren’t scared of what the next moment would bring, you didn’t feel like you had to push yourself and you simply relaxed into his arms. You lost yourself in his pools of cedar brown, swimming in the warmth of hickory hues. You were safe, you were happy. This was exultance.

You pressed your paint-covered hand to his cheek while leaning in to plant a kiss upon his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? George? Draco? Let me know! I love you!


	10. Veritaserum Valor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've gone and kissed George after a rather fun time spent in Detention. You hadn't really considered what you were doing at the time, can you figure it out now? George is kind, but you're still dancing through this cynical cycle with Draco, what is best for you? You may want to decipher what is going on before your best-friend takes truth serum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took longer! This week was awful, I barely had time to write and this chapter is long and mainly sucks, but as always, I still hope you like it! Really excited to hear from you, you guys are all amazing! I love you!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Realization strikes the moment your lips touch his own. You couldn't deny it was a kiss, or that the butterflies in your stomach bloomed in a chaotic frenzy the second it happened. You were actually astounded that he'd kissed you back, the recklessly impulsive decision met with a brief brush of his own lips. George himself was just shocked you had made a move, stunned stiffly through the notion you had more boldness than he. He tried to deepen the kiss, but you panicked immediately.

You yanked away, nearly sending your head flying into the stone floor you laid against and giving yourself a nasty concussion, if not for the cradle of George' s hand around the backside of your hair. You pressed your hand to your lips, absolutely mortified with yourself while squirming to free yourself from under him. You were close to bloody hyperventilating, George jumping up and pulling up as well as soon as he saw how petrifyingly pale you'd gotten beneath him. When you were steadied back on your feet, you fled out of his arms and put large steps of space between both of you, the taste of bitter paint and cinnamon sweets still surviving on your brims. Right now, you didn't speak any language and hadn't the slightest clue what words were. You stood before him, speechless and a mental mess, trying your hardest to formulate literally anything. 

“I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have … That was r-really stupid … I'm so sorry, George, I … I'm so sorry, I was just … That was..." you were now disorderly pacing the ground, quick and short breaths making you dizzy. George began to argue over you, trying to dismiss the entire kiss with a shake of his head. His face was still hot, beneath the layers of paint caking his features with smeared colors. 

“No, no, don't apologize … You're being too hard on … Are you alright? You look like you're going to faint … y/n!" You froze at the sound of him yelling your name out to stop you in your haywired, hazardous steps. You were going to faint, the room was still spinning when you paused. 

This wasn't you, you didn't just go around kissing boys, especially not boys you viewed as a really good friend and would be absolutely crushed if you did anything to jeopardize that friendship, like kissing them. It was like Cedric kissing you last year. You both know your friendship has not since recovered, it still isn't possible to just move on and be as close as you once were. It didn't help that Cedric had also said some rather awfully hurtful things. On his behalf, he did write later that he was sorry and took them back, but they still existed in the depths of your mind. 

You glanced over at George, who perceived your anxious fit and gave you space. He caught your gaze and stretched out his hands to move them slowly up and down his torso. “Breathe,” he insisted, watching your alarmed frame closely, ready to act if you did start leaning. You listened to him, focusing on matching your inhales and exhales to the calm motion of his hands. It helped, your heart returning to a normal beat and every nerve in your body seeking stability through your limbs. Neither of you spoke, you both just breathed, until you were calm enough to speak, sound reason returning with the de-escalation. 

"Thank you, George. I am sorry for k-kissing you, I shouldn't have... and I was just caught up in the--" George raised his hand to stop you again, a weak chuckle leaving his lips. 

"It’s alright, at least you weren't awful at it," George teased, easing back into his own jokes. With your fragile emotional state, you actually uttered a scoffed bit of laughter yourself, shaking your head. If only he knew how much practice you’d had with that slimy Slytherin you refused to think about, knowing any mention of him was enough to drown you back into hysteria. 

"Is everything a joke to you?" you asked, comforted life bringing itself back into your bones with George's casualty. 

He nodded immediately, "absolutely everything." He made you laugh again, distracting your mind from the embarrassment you felt.. He continued after letting your laughter ease his own worry, "I wanted to. I was going to... eventually?-- Are we positive you're not supposed to be in Gryffindor? I certainly do not have your humble courage, I was shaking in my trousers while just trying to build up the nerve to kiss you," George admitted, causing you to laugh again, tranquility trudging itself through the remainder of your nerves. You were blushing again. Why hadn't he kissed you? Why did you kiss him? Your eyes flickered upwards to the clock hung on the wall.

"Time flew," you remarked, taking another long, regretful glance at the mess you'd both caused in the classroom. Paint was not covering the room, but it was everywhere. You could see the smears even in small splatters that had accidentally gone flying from the battle, especially when you had both just tried to saturate one another in colors. "We should go."

George glanced around the other angle of the room. "It tends to do that when we're having fun," he sighed, following your lead without a question. "Phenomenal suggestion, I advise that we... bolt.... like now!" 

You both sprinted to collect your things, mischievous explosions of laughter. George paused, finally seeing that your canvases had fallen when you were chasing each other. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his sleeve, "leave everything, we can't get into even more trouble!" 

You dragged him towards the door by his shirt sleeve, halting as you peeked your head out into the hallway to try and clear the route of escape. George peered over your shoulder, sticking his head further into the hallway, "little hitch in our plot there. Something tells me Hagrid may have reason to suspect it was us." The hall was empty as most were already preparing to gather in the great hall for dinner. You gave his sleeve another tug to lead him into the hall quickly, flattening to the opposite corridor wall. 

“Fair point,” you agreed in a hushed tone. George was trying to get the paint off his face but it wasn’t working exactly, he was simply smearing the strokes of paint across his skin. You shook your head, pulling his hands from his face, “you’re just making it worse! We have to wash up before super in the grand hall.” George nodded in agreement.  
“I think we’re done for, we should probably just drop out now,” George sarcastically snickered from your side, both of you glancing around the shoulder of the corridor. Hufflepuff was closer, but there were a couple of stragglers still filing out of the portrait passage, so you waited. “Can this stuff actually wash off? It feels like I’m going to be scrubbing for hours.”

“Hey, you could use it,” you joked, watching the last of the Hufflepuffs leave for super. You motion George forward, but he still stood in place, scoffing at your remark. 

“Excuse me?” you rolled your eyes at his stumped stop, his reaction to your comedic, but teasing, cross comment making you laugh. “As the best looking Weasley offspring, that is ridiculously and completely false.”

“Well…” you started, dragging out the word as it was followed by George faking a hurt gasp, his hand to his chest.

“I beg your pardon,” George followed after you quickly, clearing his throat with a sternness. “As a trusted representative of the Weasley family, with all due respect, piss off.” You couldn’t believe your ears, George hurrying ahead to slam to a stop in front of you. 

“George!” you pushed his shoulders playfully, shaking your head. “Your family loves me.” You tried to walk through George’s frail frame, but he just walked backwards with you while sighing. There was a slight bob to his head at your comment, but his mischievous hands had alternative motives. George took hold of your hand and twirled you around himself, you laughed at the foolish gesture, but followed his steps and whirled around his figure. Your hair blew with the gentle breeze, balancing on the height of your slipper until you landed against George’s side. 

“You’re quite right. Potentially more than they do I, their own dashing, favorite son,” George let his arm fall across it’s current position over your shoulder as you both continued in dancing dips down the hall. George’s goofy grin was a contagious plague that seized sweet sickness on your lips, the happy hums of your chest expressed in hysterics. 

“There is this thing tonight after the Triwizard champion selection, Cedric lost a wager-- Anyways, if you don’t have prior engagements, you’re more than welcome to come by Hufflepuff this evening,” you invited him, without a worry in sight. You brought his hand over your head and attempted to twirl him around yourself, fully extending yourself as tall as possible, but still forcing George to crouch over so that he could spin around you. He took both of your hands and you waltzed backwards, large strides forward and back while making absolute fools of yourselves through awful dance moves. 

“Cedric lost a wager? I will have to check my schedule for this evening, I have a rather tireless agenda. Struggles of being so popular,” George teased, winking down at you. “I’m there.” You didn’t care what you looked like, you were both bouncing laughter off the confined corridors, echoing in song as you danced. When your feet reached the Hufflepuff door and he pulled your hands back in so your feet met with bodies between the space of your hands, he stepped into you with a hand on your back and dipped you almost to the floor. You both laughed harder, your hair falling onto the floor and hand still gripping his own to keep your questionable balance. 

“What have we got here?” your feet obeyed every abrupt command to return beneath you as you jerked yourself immediately free from George. The sound of a cruel taunt from behind you had you both shocked, but you were immediately weak. You couldn’t get away from George fast enough, George straightening as well with curiosity as to your eager jolt apart. The life from your features drowned immediately, the smile suddenly slaughtered at the mere syllables escaping Draco’s lips. 

“Malfoy,” Weasley hesitantly addressed his presence, Draco’s eyes solely scorching you. He was aware of George’s presence, but the incineration of his glare was privileged to you alone. You couldn’t meet his eyes, heart racing violent pulses through your entire body. What was he doing here? When he finally registered George’s voice saying his own name, he flashed a twisted taunt towards him as well. 

“Weasley,” Draco sneered, sarnic smirk growing on his hard expression. “You both look bloody … festive.” The comment cut into your gut, the pale plead in your eyes caught with his own in a shameful shrink to your shoulders. George felt misplaced, but was still indifferently unaware of the clear tension between you and Draco. 

“We happened to have been caught in the rain, Malfoy,” George replied sarcastically, catching the worst of Draco’s glowering glare as it snapped back in his direction. 

“Is that supposed to be funny, Weasley--” Draco took a daring step forward, tension tempting his patience. He was already boiling on the inside, a temper barely restrained by the tightness of his jaw. You didn’t know if you could even move your limbs at this instant, but you really had no choice.

“Draco,” you cut him off, meeting his step forward with your hand instinctively catching his own and returning that space to George. He snatched his hand from your own as soon as you touched him, but allowed himself to step back at your guidance. His glare remained fixed on George, who watched your reaction abnormally, seeing you dare to actually tolerate Draco in such a strange manner. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Draco asked, his gaze finally fixating daggers down towards you. You stayed between them, protecting George and invading Malfoy’s position to do so. Draco’s eyes were dark, but different than the customary reflection of foreseen hatred he wore daily, it was more than just hate, you had seen it when he focused on George just a few seconds prior. The way his hues absorbed the light while his face was angled just right, there was a shredded shadow of bitter envy hidden in that graphite glare. Why would Draco ever be jealous of such a despicable bloke? Because the sound of your laughter down the hallway was breathtaking, and the part of him that he strangled on the inside craved to be the source of your happiness. That part drove him to seek an outlet for his anger that conveniently happened to deliver itself to him, with you in that weasel’s arms. 

“You would think that was obvious--” George started. You turned around, cautious to retain Draco still stationary behind your frame. 

“George,” you gave Draco a specific Weasley twin, your voice becoming soft and shaky. You were kicking yourself, but had no idea Draco would show up outside of Hufflepuff, and you were even more alarmed that it was most likely aimed around yourself. You cleared your throat, begging out the words, “you should go wash up, I’ll meet you in the great hall.”

“And Malfoy?” George asked, the hidden nature of your “relationship” or simply, bond, with Draco, still undefined with all need to stay silent. You found the lie leaving your lips before you’d even thought it through. 

“We’re paired together for a project in Charms,” you simply excused the gesture, shrugging a stiff shoulder with Draco silent behind you. He wouldn’t argue unless you were close to exposing any of the candor created by the Amortentia. Neither of you would ideally be where you were voluntarily, yet the desire the Amortentia possessed believed to be impossible to ignore. 

“Will you be alright?” George asked, concern as clear as the strong storm pounding down on the palace. Draco scoffed, a challenging step into your back that refused to let him budge past. 

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to--” you leaned your back into his front. You could argue it was to keep him from stepping up to George, but peculiar comfort from this bond that existed when you touched him was sounding swell right about now. 

“Yes. I’m fine,” you lied again, knowing you could hold yourself against Draco, but not wanting to in the slightest. The weight of the impending discussion that already had the potential of a shouting match was unavoidably trampling you into a squashed sandwich between George and Draco. You didn’t want to leave George on this note after what had happened, you weren’t really sure why you’d kissed him, honestly, you were just in the moment and it… did feel right. 

“I’ll see you later this evening,” George lingered, unconvinced whatsoever by your assuring but really in no mindset to fight over any of it while stained with paint. He would speak with you later, after all, you had invited him. You waited until George rounded the corner towards Gryffindor. 

“You can’t do that. What are you doing--” you started with a sigh, cut immediately by Draco’s hand on your wrist. His hold was tight, palm slapping against the top while his fingers curled tensely around the round of your joint. You registered the remote discomfort, not considering it painful as much as it was rigid constraint. Draco didn’t wait for you, he hauled you around the corner to a hidden arch in the wall barely wide enough to hide both of you. Draco shoved you against the wall, his hands bore into the wall with your head trapped between them. Draco’s temper was taunting at the barrier of control he had on his emotions, an eager excitement in it’s release. 

“Shove off. What was that?” He was very close, Draco’s detestable, demeaning demand now in your face. Your delicious natural scent was now scorching his nostrils with inhales of pure paint, but he didn’t falter. He was only interested in confirming what he figured. 

“What was--” you tried to clear your throat but your words just came out soft and strained. A distance off your tongue that strung out the syllables, until you were silenced by Draco stealing the words from your lips. 

“Don’t play your little innocent act. Do I look like I’m in the mood to deal with your shit?” Draco hissed, causing you to flinch just under him as he slammed his palms against the wall beside your ears. The sound rang in your ears, heart skipping a beat while pounding anxiously in your throat. He was trying to intimidate you, figuring it would get you to fold and confess faster than a misdirection, which you had thought was worth a try, initially. 

“I don’t know what you’re--” you tried again, the impulse to cower and sink into your body stronger than trying to hold your composition. You had to pull your eyes from him to deprive him of the gratification of your stress, manifesting inside you as worry laced with specks of fear. Draco noticed you jump, but he was already so lost to his anger at this time that the regret didn’t come immediately, but he chose to cut you off once more.

“I won’t ask you again, y/n, what the bloody hell was all of that crap with Weasley? Why are you covered in wretched paint? What does he mean he’ll see you later this evening?” he snapped, voice raising and irritation provoked by your attempts at getting him to explain what he thinks he saw. How much did he see? Draco’s glare shot swiftly up and back down your body to examine the extent of your painted persona, there was barely a speckle of skin hidden in the colors as they dried to your body and clothing. How did you even begin to explain the paint? 

“We got into some paint in detention,” you answered, a glimpse of the truth built on your statement, but you didn’t give him time to dissect it. “What are you doing here, Draco?” 

Draco smirked, as if he had been wanting you to ask that question, “I came for you. I saw you with him earlier. You held his hand in the courtyard and then disappeared. What happened?” He demanded answers as if he was entitled to them, but you still felt a grave guilt firm in your gut that denied the usual amount of bickering. You shifted uneasily on your feet. 

“Draco, you’re being--” you tried to reach out to him again, but he caught your hand and delivered it right back to your side. Draco resumed a loud crash of his hands as they cracked back against the wall to kill your comment before you could make it. 

“Answer me!” he shouted, no longer paying any attention to the volume of his voice. Without fully intending to, you cowered once again, bowing your head with a gentle shake. You weren’t a fan of being screamed at, especially when it was as degrading as Draco Malfoy. While Draco was no longer in control of his outrageous temper, you were losing the fight with your feelings that choked a wetness into the brinks of your eyes. Draco lowered his voice along with his head, intentionally seeking to catch your eyes so that his sneer may hurt worse. “Is Weasley just your newest conquest? Back to being nothing but a halfwit harlot, y/n?” The gap in your gut was warped inside you at his sneer, sinking even tighter to the support of the wall. Just another charming sentiment from your delightful soulmate, Draco Malfoy, never failing to confess his deepest thoughts. 

“Don’t!” You cried right back, hands landing upon his shoulders to shove him back. He barely moved really, but his hands lost their entrapment of your head and a window of opportunity sang your name. “You can’t speak to me like that. I would like to get washed--” you turned to leave, a crack in your voice struggling to remain hidden through the grief you currently felt. You didn’t make it one step. 

Draco raced you to it, grabbing your shoulder and pinning you roughly right back to the wall in the small divot of the wall. “I can speak however I so desire and you, little puff, are avoiding the question. So, enlighten me,” he dropped his head near your ear, a sick humor lucid from his lips. “Was he any good?” You scoffed, closing your eyes in a sad attempt to drown the tears back into your eye sockets. 

“Draco, please stop,” you placed a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. Your voice was seeming more and more like a desperate whimper. “Please, let me explain--”

“So it’s true! What has happened between you two, then?” Draco demanded, a vile victory just stabbing through your stomach as Draco proceeded in a truly atrocious attack. He moved closer, a sadistic step into your body while his hand caught a strand of paint-stiff hair twirled around his hand. His lips were almost on your cheek while hesitating on your ear. Feeling his hot breath on your skin made your mind implode and a weakness whim in your knees. “Did you fuck him? Did you moan for him like you do so good for me?”

“Stop it! No,” you shoved him back again, shaking your head as a single tear spilt from your eyes. You were about to make another mistake. “I kissed him. I kissed George, but it didn’t--”

“You snogged him?” Draco stopped you, surprise scorching his tongue and swirling with even more upset just below the surface. He stayed apart, trying to absorb the information rationally while being devoured by hatred and wronging. His rage was slipping again, built up in the depths of a tight jaw and despised eyes. You took a step towards him, shaking your head while begging him to look at you. 

“No. It was just a kiss, but it didn’t--” you whispered, but Draco didn’t attest to any of it. His hands tightened into fists, lips pursing into a straight line through the resentment. He didn’t say anything, he just straightened his shoulders and stepped out of the hidden angle of the wall. “Draco, please,” you called after him, a single step faltering after him but falling short as he ignored the sound of your cries and continued down the hall. You cried silently into your palm for a moment, watching his back turn on you and then disappear to leave you with your lonesome regret in the center of the empty corridor. 

Why did it hurt so much? Why did everything inside of you hate watching him walk away as if he was taking pieces of your heart with him? 

You took a second to gather yourself, swallowing your cries and burying the emotions long enough for you to enter the Hufflepuff passageway. You were glad your emotions could be hidden in the layers of paint, especially as you barely reached the last step into the common room before hearing Elle’s voice. 

“Oh my god!” Elle yelled in relief, flooding over to your side. She was ready to engulf you in a hug that you very much needed at this time, but stopped seeing the mess. “Merlin’s beard! Are you okay? What the f--is that paint?” You nodded your head with another ghastly look down at yourself. You were no doubt going to be tossing this entire uniform and pulling out one of the old ones until you could find a new set. 

“I got into a paint fight with George in detention,” you admitted, truthfully, taking a step towards the girl’s dormitory to retrieve new attire. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll meet you as soon as I scrub all the paint off. Fingers crossed, Diggory,” you faked a hopeful grin in Diggory’s direction, bringing up your hands with dainty digits curled over one another. Cedric chuckled, rolling his eyes at your appearance. You lied, unlike him, your fingers would be crossed with hope for the exact opposite of what he wished. 

“I would give you a lucky squeeze, but you’re…” Cedric joked, nodding his head after you. You paused with a gentle shimmy to your shoulders, stretching your arms out wide as if to entice him. 

“Are you sure?” you questioned, taking a step forward that caused him to pull Elle and himself five steps back. You all laughed at his jumpy gesture, Cedric calling aloud to get you to stop in your tracks. 

“Yes! We’ll see you there, don’t miss it,” Cedric added, Elle already on her way out as Cedric waited for your promise. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you nodded your head, giving them both a parting wave of your fingers. Then they were gone, and you were alone again. 

You showered quickly, glad that most of the paint had been still in the process of drying, other specs just refused to come off and you had to accept the splatters now seemingly cemented into patches of your skin. A bit of red on your legs and strangely on the side of your neck, some yellow on your hand, it wasn’t awful. You took the shower to reflect on the events that still felt forged and unreal, a complete confusion manifesting itself with every aspect as you tried to figure the intent behind your kiss with George and why you’d actually been so hurt by Draco’s reaction. You couldn’t lie to him, but the truth should not have been that painful to admit, especially since Draco rejected and refused to let you in at every angle. Let alone acknowledge the obvious connection beyond the simple sexual satisfaction, there was more to what you both felt still failing to be understood. One similarity you shared was the urge to silence that part which begged for more than sex, you were just worse at containing it. 

You rushed into the grand hall, barely leaving the Hufflepuff house with your clothes fully on. Your hair was still dripping and soaking the fabric of your knitted vest as you disappeared quickly into the Hufflepuff crowd and easily identified Elle and Cedric already standing off to the corner. You greeted everyone, trying to keep a happy exterior until you reached them, managing to grab for Cedric's sleeve before he took a step towards the goblet. 

He turned and grinned at you, "nice to see your face again! No more paint," you brushed off his comment, and pulled him and Elle a couple steps off to the side. 

“I don’t know, the paint was kind of a look, was it not?” Elle huffed sarcastically, dragging her body along with your command. You didn’t address her comment either, attention solely focusing on Cedric’s hand. His scrap of parchment was already resting in his fingers. You thought about just lunging for the paper and then making a run for it, but realized it was just a bit of parchment, he could easily locate another, and you weren’t very fast. Two negatives, slim chance of really making any difference, but for some reason, you thought words would. 

"Please think about this, Diggs. Headmaster Dumbledore says they are dangerous tasks and I can't have you getting hurt. Your father--" you tried to get him to reconsider submitting his name, your voice hushed so that it was only you three that could listen. Cedric shook his head, annoyed from this last attempt at persuasion, already doomed to fail. He took your hand within his own and offered it a soft squeeze, it was meant to be reassuring, but it just made your nauseous nerves twist. 

"My father will be overjoyed if I am chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. I want to do this for him, I want to honor our name," you let him finish, covering his hand with both of your own and bringing it tight to your collar. You wished you could keep him safe, right here. You wished he didn't feel like he had to prove himself. 

"I know, but Cedric, you don't need a silly chalice for your father to be proud of you--" your sentiment was cut short by the senseless sound of a dumb chuckle coming from a heard of Huffles, led by Zacharias himself. 

"But it helps," Zacharias interrupted, pulling Cedric's free hand and yanking him away from you, his group of Hufflepuff guys already surrounding Cedric before you could finish your discussion. You felt his hand slip from it's safe place between your own and a dullness flickered in your chest for just for a moment. You could have lied and said you were just nervous for him, but you were more than just concerned, you didn't have a good feeling about this competition, but you'd had this discussion dozens of times and his answer hadn't changed. "Stop trying to steal his glory, l/n. You can put your name in there when you're big enough, alright?" 

You were used to disheartening remarks from Zacharias, both you and Elle had been since Zacharia was unsuccessful at stealing Cedric away. First year, Zacharias foolishly believed it would be him and Cedric leading Hufflepuff to grandeur, little did anyone really know, Cedric was happy as could be with just you and Elle. Like you and Elle, Zacharias was also younger, but he looked up to Cedric as everyone in Hufflepuff did. He had a heroic reputation and as you knew, he had always been the kindest and most welcoming friend, even if you were a newly-sorted first year he didn't grow up with. Unlike Anthony Rickett or Ernie MacMillian, Zacharias really just seemed to follow Cedric around until Cedric considered him a close friend. Times were simpler before Zacharias' forced friendship; Cedric didn't need the glory, you and Elle used to be enough for him. 

"Zacharias--" Cedric started, disapprovingly. He shrugged Zacharias' hand from his own, ready to put his belittled friend in his place when Elle snickered from your side, slapping Cedric's shoulder. Elle took a step forward, her arm perched on your shoulder and a click of her bubblegum against her teeth. 

"No Ceddy, it's alright. I've got this one! Our dear Zacharias is just projecting because he's too much of a frightened baby to put in his own name. Isn't that right, Zachy?" You threw your arm around Elle, sending an apologetic glance towards Zacharias' baffled and shameful stare. "One more snide remark or sarcastic comment about my friends, and I will tell the entire castle how you practically wet your trousers just listening to Dumbledore speak of the Tournament. You coward, little b--" the sound of Cedric's laughter and clap of his hands drowned out the end of Elle's threat, his hands set on both of their shoulders to ease the tension. You were really glad you didn't have to be mean, Zacharias cowering while his friends seemed to make a mockery out of Elle’s revelation. 

"Now, now, we're all a part of the same loving family! Rias, you did have that coming,” Cedric easily calmed down the commotion, giving Zacharias a squeeze on the shoulder and then glancing across from you. “Elle," he started, met with her quirky grin and hesitating. 

“Yes, Ceddy-pooh?" Elle asked, raising a brow playfully. Cedric couldn’t hold a straight face, head dropping to try and hide his amusement. You nudged Elle’s side with your hip, trying to contain your own laughter with a glance to your feet. 

"I will deal with you later," Cedric groaned the words out, chuckling discreetly while Elle whistled an intriguing tune. 

"Is that a promise, because I have been rather naught--" you slapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish turning Cedric into a tomato. Cedric sent you a relieved thanks as his buddies returned to usher him towards the Goblet. You wished you had just another second to talk to him, but he laughed while they shuffled him closer until he was within the age ring. You held your breath, watching him drop his name into the blue blaze. 

You swore you saw a split second of hesitancy, but the Hufflepuffs around you, even Elle, erupted in applause and hollered hooting. You took a second to join in, offering a loud clap while feeling extensively nauseous. Cedric turned and sent you a wide grin, laughing with his head bowed as he jumped back into the group of his buddies, who celebrated as if he already won. He made his way through his friends to get back to you and Elle, still surrounded by all of them when Elle dragged you over for a tight group hug. 

You squeezed Cedric with everything you had, not wanting to let go. You did, though, hearing more whooping nearing from the hallway and peering past Cedric to see the Weasley twins running in and reuniting with their Gryffindors. A blush crept to your cheeks before you could stop it, watching George proceed to cheer with his housepals. His attention was only on them for a moment before it slipped away to examine the rest of the room, gaze on a hunt to locate your own. 

"Cooked it up just this morning," even from across the room, you could hear the sound of George's voice. The others really only paid short attention to them, but you carefully watched in amusement, George's frame finally turning in your direction. Regardless of the distance between you, you faced defeat when it came to refusing to become red under his attention, especially faced with the audacity of his goofy grin. 

They weren’t going to mention you, as they shouldn’t have, considering you didn’t want any part in the result you predicted before even brewing the potion for them. He sent you a wink, presenting the potion towards his younger Gryffindor disciples, but shortly interrupted by a remark Hermione sung in an obvious melody. Elle was following your gaze now, realizing you were no longer soaking up the excitement for Cedric while he acclaimed an early celebration. Elle didn’t say anything, a grin pulling at her lips as she registered how much you would have rather been at George’s side right now. And she was probably right considering the way you stared at him, longingly, from a distance. They were now crouching beside Granger’s seat, discussing the nearly nonexistent chance it would work. 

"Cause it's so pathetically dim-witted," George snickered, raising to his feet the same moment Fred did. You watched them both step up onto the bench, shaking the potion? The minute you heard him say ‘ready’, you panicked, realizing he’d forgotten your specific instruction. You watched those dim-witted Weasley twins loop arms and then toss back the entirety of the tiny vitals and wanted to slap yourself in the face. You were quite clear, just a couple drops, but George didn’t listen. You weren’t shocked, but obviously disappointed. You didn’t realize the remainder of your group had actually divided into the crowd moving to watch the show, the Weasley twins jumping into the age circle with a surprising ease. 

“You can’t take your eyes off him,” Elle whispered, spiraling her arm through your own and tugging happily on your side. She was excited for you for reasons she’d made crystal clear since you told her about Draco. She was not a fan, nor did she respect Malfoy. In her mind, anyone was better for you than Draco Malfoy, and one of the Weasley dorks were definitely worthy contenders. You shook your head, swallowing the breath stuck in your throat with the blood rushing deeper into your cheeks as she exposed you evidently. 

“What? I can too take my eyes off George,” you clarified confidently, tossing your hair over your shoulder with only a slight glance towards where Elle stood beside you. You only let your attention escape George and his brother for a moment, already eager to return to watch the show as it unfolded before dozens of students. Elle hummed with a bob of her head, as if she was convinced, grinning widely to herself.

“I didn’t say which one,” she whispered back, causing your shoulders to drop with your head. You cursed under your breath, racking a hand through your hair with a drawn out sigh Elle continued, your slight reaction being enough to confirm her thoughts, a giddy cheer escaping her. “Are you going to tell me, or should I ask him what exactly happened this afternoon in detention myself?” You finally brought your gaze to hers, shrugging your shoulders. 

“You may be better off asking Malfoy,” you remarked, a slight wave of shame returning. Elle didn’t put it together, curiosity curving her lips into a frown at the mere mention of Draco.

“Why do you say--No!” she got in in the middle of her question, eyes popping out of her head as she squeezed your arm. You nodded, exhaling dramatically and pressing your fingertips in gentle circles over your temples. You were lucky the others had drawn your commotion out while focusing on the twins plan to cheat the Goblet of Fire.

“Yep,” you explained, leaning your body on Elle’s for balance, “He was waiting outside of Hufflepuff for me to return, he saw us... goofing off in the hall,” a grin pulled rosy redness to your cheeks at the memory of dancing aimlessly like dorks through the corridors with George. Watching you get all happy at the memory, Elle had a remote feeling she was still missing something.

“And?” Elle begged you to continue, and you did without another second to consider what you were exposing. You didn’t have to debate what you wanted to tell her because she was just as happy about it, and him for you. 

“I told Draco I kissed George,” you admitted in a whisper, Elle’s face exploding with a hyper glee while she began to bounce rapidly on her feet. 

“Excuse me? You did what with George W--” Elle’s surprise was cut short by shocked sounds, both of you returning your attention to the Weasley twins just as she uttered George’s name. Just a moment after their pre-celebration of dropping their names into the Goblet did surges of blue erupt from the flames and launch both Fred and George across the room. You gasped, taking a step forward with Elle to look over the forming crowd and assure both of the twins were alright. They looked rough, like they had smoke actually coming off of their bodies while they began to sit up. That is when the laughter erupted from the crowd, neither you or Elle could resist joining in at the sight of George and Fred singed with large, puffy white hair and adjoined with identical long beards. 

“You said!” Fred called out first, tackling his brother who shouted the exact same phrase just a second later. You weren’t sure if Fred had ever heard your instructions to George, perhaps he just forgot to mention it or neither of them cared. Elle watched you light up watching their fight, shaking your head at the foolish reaction of the twins as they wrestled before everyone, crowds of students chanting encouragement. Your eyes found themselves elsewhere, dissecting the room in an instant and then catching Elle’s hand over the noise around them. 

“I have to go, I will be back soon!” You knew your destination before you’d even thought it out at all. Your eyes flashed momentarily back to where George scuffled with Fred, feet already leading you backwards. 

“Where are you—“ you squeezed her hand and took off before she could finish her clueless question. The second you started rushing away, the answer became clear and she almost followed you to prevent this awful idea. Even if she had to drag you back by your hair. You rushed through the corridors, passing by students filing in the opposite direction towards the grand hall. You fled down the staircase and slid to an unsteady stop before the Slytherin portrait, who sneered in annoyance seeing you approach. 

“He won’t see you,” the painting hissed, head snapping away from you. You were almost out of breath from the journey to reach the door, but shrugged off the obvious remark. 

“And you know all?” You breathed, hands folding over your chest. The portrait actually made a humming sound of verification, distasteful glare down towards where you stood. How much did Draco confess to a painting? 

“As the Slytherin protector, it is my job,” it sneered in a loathsome tone, causing you to drop your arms and instead replace them in a plea before you. 

“I don’t care if he doesn’t want to, I need to see him. Please let me through,” you asked, the painting pondering with a slight smirk before granting you access to the dungeon passageway of the Slytherin house.

“I advise against it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” their voice taunted just as you slipped inside, following close to the wall. It was weird being here during the day, you tabled that observation for now, the truth in your mind still formulating words to convey. You didn’t think it would be difficult to find him, but you didn’t expect to find him this easily. When you fled onto the final step of the descent into the Slytherin common room, two figures closely knit on the sofa opposite to you caught at your invasion. 

“Draco,” you interrupted, catching his gaze for a fraction of a glance before he returned it to the girl. You tried to keep a sturdy voice, but when you breathed his name, it was painfully soft. He was stuck in adoration, attention purposefully glorifying the stare he shared with this stranger. 

“Can I help you?” Draco sighed, annoyance chiming overly loathsomely. He noticed your pause and continued himself, motioning the hand he had draped along the backside of the sofa, practically around her. “Oh, this is Cl—“

“Charlotte Sebestien of Beauxbatons Academy,” even her voice was angelic. Charlotte corrected Draco and introduced herself with a radiant smile, thick French accent absolutely alluring. You weren’t sure whether Draco had purposely begun to pronounce her name wrong, or whether they too were strangers and he’d honestly already forgotten. You could see either option being correct, Draco was just that kind of sly bastard. 

“Y/n,” you cleared your throat with a polite grin, clearly forced. “L/n of Hufflepuff House. Pleasure to meet you,” you greeted her back, offering a sad attempt at a friendly bid. 

“You as well! Are you friends with Draco?” Charlotte asked, curiously. Especially since the young Beauxbaton girl had just begun to understand the issue with the passage and passwords, which was how she met Draco earlier that afternoon. Before you could consider a viable, yet vague response, Draco had beat you to it with a scoffed snicker.

“No,” he declared, a cruel swindle of humor in the reply. “Not in the slightest, just another schoolgirl with a crush. Something you need?” Draco addressed you but still refused to look your way, deliberately directing the rude remark to you, while once again, lying. 

“Sure,” you brushed it off in bland acceptance, not really caring what Charlotte of Beauxbatons thought of you. “May I speak with you?” you asked Draco, a pitied desperation in your request he seemed to smirk at. Draco Malfoy, he was nothing but arrogant smirks and evasively avoidant gazes straight past you. He didn't acknowledge your intrusive interruption, your figure still hesitating near the wall a distance away from where they sat comfortably close on the sofa. 

You had heard about the newcomers being randomly roomed within the houses, but hadn't expected to find this. If you were to be honest with yourself, you could remember that first day back in the castle when Headmaster Dumbledore had introduced the Tournament to the school and presented the competing schools, the Durmstrang gents and the Beauxbaton damsels. You had coincidentally, of course, glanced over the moment they flooded through the doors, skipping and sighing all dramatically, a faux attempt at poeticism that you and Elle had caught onto at the first sigh they'd sung so 'sweetly'. What you found when you did look over to Slytherin, was Draco's little group drooling while watching the girls skip and bounce in as they did. You were jealous seeing him look so favorably in their direction that day, his jaw hung open and everything. 

You were sure this was just your circumstance that had caused you to look at them so negatively. Truthfully, you'd thought they were rather lovely and indeed, poetic, but right now, you had a strong distaste toward them that was fully reliant on Draco's proximity to this specific one. Charlotte, apparently. She was quite lovely, making it even more apparent so that Malfoy Junior had a noticeable type. Strangely enough, it was like looking into a mirror that you didn't recognize yourself in, at first, but after another few moments of silently staring, it became more distinct. Her hair may have been shorter and lighter in color, but it was the same soft wave that became of your own natural strands. Her freckles were much more apparent as well as the pale color of her green eyes, which did compliment the hue of Draco's own. All in all, she was very pretty and although you felt familiar, you still felt incomplete with the revelation Draco so clearly wanted you to accept. 

"I have no interest in sharing a word with you. You can show yourself out," Draco stabbed right back, daring enough to follow up the hurtful sneer with a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes never once landed upon you, still adoring the porcelain perfection of the beauty sitting beside him. They were too close, practically sitting on one another's lap while sharing a single cushion on a rather lengthy sofa. You were genuinely surprised and impressed with yourself at how accustomed you were becoming with his painful sentiments, barely feeling more than a dagger twisting in your gut with his resentful tone. 

"Draco--," you started, abruptly stopped by Charlotte’s hand dismissing your attempt to rationalize with him without forcing yourself to beg for a scrap of his time. Even though you were quite sure he would rather have you begging on your knees for him regardless of what you had to say.

"No please, I was just getting ready to return to the girls. Excuse me," Charlotte excused herself, rising to her feet to reveal where Draco had been holding her hand. The steel blade piercing through your insides carved deeper, but you remained still and silent at the sight. Draco's fingers intertwined with her own as she smiled sweetly down at him, flashing perfect white pearls and sparkling green eyes. "Au revoir, Draco," Draco grinned up at her, a cocky sort of tease that you easily identified and forced yourself to ignore. She dropped his hand and then seemed to float past you with a polite farewell and something you hadn't particularly been listening to about meeting you. Draco watched her leave, or more specifically, stared at her ass as she left. He then kicked his feet up onto the table in front of him, turning his back on you the moment his newest mistress had disappeared up the steps. You waited until the portrait sounded behind her to bring yourself deeper into the room, still hesitant behind the sofa. 

"She seems lovely," you commented with a sarcastic ring, trying not to make your words seem as jealous as they were truly. You were intimidated by her effortless grace, she did appear to be perfect, and if you were cynical about the detail, Charlotte Sebestien would look much nicer while strung on Draco's arm. 

"She most definitely is. Oh, is that jealousy I hear, y/n?" he teased, finding the wall more compelling than making any attempt to glance to his side where you remained. You recognized his words prior to him finishing, "it is not flattering on you, love." You had spoken just the same snide remark the other night when he'd addressed the now valid argument of George. You happened to not like the taste of your own medicine, rolling your eyes with another step into the room to present yourself before him. "I preferred the paint. It actually did something for that mug of yours." You squirmed under his gaze, immediately regretting the number of steps you had taken to approach him. 

"I didn't come here to argue with you, Malfoy," you stated weakly, nails digging into your palms at your side. He could be intentionally hurtful, but you also figured you'd deserved a fraction of it after your earlier confession. Past tense. 

“Pity,” he spat back sarcastically. You ignored his ridiculous addition, continuing yourself.

"I came to apologize for--” you hated the sound of sorrowful syllables leaving your lips only when he laughed at you. 

“You think I care enough to listen? I had no desire to listen to your pitiful excuses then, nor do I now. Goodbye,” Draco twirled his fingers for you, sighing through the annoyance. 

“No,” you kept your place in the Slytherin common room, though notably out of place. “You can’t just demand I leave and pretend--”

“Go bugger someone else with your lies! I have no interest in them and no interest in you. Get out,” Draco scowled. You needed to lend yourself a considerable second to let his comment go, easily hurt by his loathsome remark. 

“No,” you stated again, holding an inhale in your chest to keep your posture tall. “I will repeat it as many times as it takes to get through that thick, hollow head of yours, Draco; I do not answer to you. My obedience is to my own will.” 

“I’m so impressed,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re wasting your breath, you bloody wench--”

“You can refer to me as every silly name you can think of, but it does not change any of this,” you pointed out, irritated as could be with his taunting name-calling. It was all an act. “You refused to let me speak earlier and instead, chose to storm off like a child throwing a tantrum. It is a real shame that daddy didn't get a chance to teach you how to behave maturely, but you are not my responsibility. Teach yourself how to behave like a man rather than a helpless child--” you just started getting it all off your chest. You really hadn’t planned the words exact, but they came willingly and all at once. Draco had stood at the mention of his father, crossing the room to stand just a foot away. To your own surprise, you didn’t flinch or cower at his approach, you remained tall as his face twisted in anger. 

“Bite your tongue, y/n. You do not want to make me--” he began raging, your mistake noticeable and truthfully unintentional, but not regrettable. You knew how to make him tick, as he did you. 

“Forgive me,” you spoke over him, raising your voice so that his words died out before he could finish. “I forget daddy is off-limits to you, but you still think you have any decision in what I will say. You are no--” the sound of your breath gasping out of you as your back collided at full force with the wall behind you was enough to stop you. Draco’s hand was locked around the base of your throat, your head nearly ricocheting off the stone while he pinned you flat against the wall with his own body tightly fastened tightly upon your own. His grip was not tender, he was growing more avidly furious with your objections and his retaliation was guided by the loose hold he had on his temper causing Draco to constrict tighter around your throat. Your lips parted, met with pain initially as your back slammed to stone, but Draco held no signs of remorse for his actions. 

“How dare you, listen well. I do not care about you--” Draco’s stiff grip only seemed to reinforce rather than release, your airway becoming more narrow while your lungs itched. You felt the beginning of an igniting flame in your rib cage due to the lack of air, your hand bringing itself up to peel his digits from your neck and shove him backwards. 

“No, Draco, I’m speaking,” you cut him off, his feet stumbling back a couple of unbalanced steps. You didn’t take a second to catch your breath, your own anger fueling your outburst. “We have had this discussion a dozen times! I am not your possession, nor do I belong to you because an Amortentia potion elects so. I am sorry,” you took a step towards him before he could resume to assert his dominance, hands shoving his shoulders back once again. “I’m sorry I kissed George, but I do not regret it. You say you cannot let me go, but--” Draco stopped you, praising you with a sarcastic applause.

“Finally figured out I was just saying what you wanted to hear to get you back into bed? How clever, little puff,” he sneered, harshly. You had to remain an exterior statue while falling to pieces just behind the surface. Of course it was true, but you had once again been so hopelessly suckered into his charm that you’d fallen for it. You were the one that let him back in, so you deserved this. 

“Why do you do this? It’s like you take pleasure in causing pain--” he denied letting you finish again, hands folding together in front of him. His smirk was becoming of him, like it belonged naturally to his cruel complexion.

“You catch on fast, love,” he snickered defiantly, eyes glancing their way from your head to your slippers. You felt his critical glower glow down your body and your insides caved. He was ridiculing you again, picking and pulling you apart in his mind to make himself superior. 

“Stop it,” you tried to turn your back, but his hand shot out to your wrist. He didn’t snap you around to face him immediately, just crushed your wrist in his hold. He stared at the back of your head and your attention had fallen from your escape to your slippers, biting your bottom lip to refrain a wince.

“It’s the truth and you’re lying to yourself again if you think differently,” he spat, your hand attempting to twist itself free in his fist. You could feel your skin piercing against the bone, but refused to grant him the satisfaction of causing you more pain. 

“Good then. I’ve made this mistake too many times and I’m glad we clarified it can now be a concluded mistake,” you finally wiggled your hand free, voice breaking with the overwhelming soreness that had caused your wrist to grow red. You rubbed over the skin, glaring at Draco. “After all, you are the one that has forsake this and continue to reject me for more than just sex. I have no intention of waiting for you to grow up, I have been patient!” You yelled over him, your fiery stance growing taller even as you glared up at him. 

“And you believe it will be hard to find someone to replace you in bed? Darling,” he chuckled harshly, his arm thrown out towards where Charlotte had just disappeared. He sneered the words, “you are nothing special! Clarisse, she will be special.” You were close to crying out of anger, obviously impatient and aggravated, but honestly hurt. Draco was just smirking down at you, wickedly content with the pain buried in your eyes. You were trying to hide it, but it was the only thing he was searching for. 

“Her name is Charlotte, and she is one of many that deserves better than Draco Malfoy,” you spat right back, shaking your head with a sharp inhale. You held your breath for a moment to deny the emotions, submerging them inside of you as his words felt like they were cementing into your skin. He laughed, tossing his head back as if you had purposely made a joke. 

“It doesn’t get better than Draco Malfoy, love,” he stepped towards you, reaching out his hand and dragging his base of his thumb enticingly slow down your bottom lip. “You are more than aware of that.” You cursed yourself for not pulling yourself immediately out of his touch, the simple gesture dissolving the anger temporarily. He was able to replace your reasoning with temptation, your glance flickering down to his own lips for a split-second. You couldn’t deny that you had involuntarily contemplated whether or not just yanking him in and forgetting all of the hell he’d put you through. For only a short blink. 

“Are you mad? Any bloke off the street could be better than you, effortlessly,” you snickered, leaning out of his touch and striding around him. You lifted your chin with a proud grin, tossing your hair over your shoulder and almost swatting him with your strands as you passed by. Draco pursed his lips, gritting his teeth and adjusting his own posture to pretend he was not disappointed with your departing steps. You paused before you started up the steps on your way out, what last bit of boldness you had stored bringing a soft smile to your brims. “And for what it is worth, it did mean something. It meant more than just a silly kiss. Sure, he will make it so much easier to walk away, but you are the one that is making it easier to forget about you, Draco.” Draco turned to stiff stone, his entire frame tensing up with your honest admission, the words just burning deeper inside of him. 

“Yeah, like that is going to happen,” he spat sarcastically, the patter of your feet on the staircase pausing. Your ascend up halted, and you stared down at the steps, squeezing the railing tighter for support. You closed your eyes and granted yourself a moment of deep breathing, before a grin found its way onto your lips. You accepted his taunting mockery of your truth with a bob of your head, blood rushing to gather your limbs. 

“For both our sakes, I hope it does,” you hummed sweetly, glancing over your shoulder to where Draco had remained, unmoved and rigidly firm. “Goodbye, Draco.” 

You took off before he could catch up. Draco was plunged back into silence, hateful fires spewing destruction inside of him that he was struggling to keep below the surface. His shoulders finally dropped when you were gone and his hands fled stressfully through his hair. Draco’s aggression had him pacing while cursing under his breath, and then louder. The wood in the fireplace began to spark, feeling the hateful energy from his emotion provoke his magic. The torches flickered as well, violent pulses following his every step until he lost it. Draco took a sharp turn and immediately sent his white-knuckled fist straight into the stone. He regretted it immediately, but it was a decent outlet for his anger, especially when Draco envisioned a particular red-haired git. 

You got out of Slytherin rather fast, not wanting to waste another dime of your own time on concerning yourself with Draco. You hurried quickly through the corridors and down sets of staircases to get to the great hall before super had been served. You’re fortunate there were still a number of stragglers on their way in when you finally made it, you sprinted to fall in beside them. Your camouflage was successful at getting you in barely noticed, but they all began to divert in different directions towards their rightful houses. You caught sight of Elle’s hair and snuck over, sliding directly into the bench beside her. She jumped feeling you scooch in beside her, head peeking over in your direction and then lacing with a light smile just as Cedric poked his own head out around her shoulder. 

“There you are!” Elle sang, in the midst of snacking. She leaned into your shoulder with a grin, still picking at the food on her plate while Cedric chimed in. 

“I was worried you’d snuck off again and planned to miss the selection,” he commented, tossing a sweet roll in your direction. You caught it very chaotically, flailing your limbs about until your digits finally wrapped around the small bread, all of you joining in on warm laughter. “I had to fight off Elle, but I managed to hold her off long enough to save you one.”

“Just had to set things straight,” you clarified with a wide grin, sending Cedric a grateful gesture. “Thank you, Diggs, I appreciate your sacrifice greatly! You are such a hero, Diggory.” Cedric broadened his shoulders with a proud smirk, causing Elle to wack her hand against his chest. 

“Calm down, brave soul. Are you sure you’re alright?” Elle patted Cedric’s shoulder and then spun back to face you, a look of genuine concern replaced on her features with cheeky mischief. “Your lanky dork was looking for you earlier,” she giggled, clicking her tongue with a wink in your direction. You nudged her shoulder while fighting off a deep flush on your cheeks. 

“Who?” Cedric cut in before you could answer, confusion drawing upon his curious features. His glance darted from you to Elle for answers neither of you gave.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, trying to hold back the wide grin that was pulling at your lips at the sly mention of George. He was looking for you. The thought alone made your heart skip a beat as you picked your glance away from your friends long enough to look around the room. Your eyes found themselves seeking sanctuary throughout the room and finally to where the Gryffindors ate, plucking through the great group until you located the gingers. It was convenient so that they all happened to sit relatively close to one another, Ron just a few seats away from the twins. You were thankful that the red hair had returned and their jaws were rid of white beards, less problematic, but still ever so charming. As if by divine chance, George had pulled his attention away from the roll he had been munching on long enough to catch your gaze with a charming grin, even with cheeks full. You blushed a bright red under his stare, practically swooning in your seat, “I will be.”

“Aw,” Elle cooed in a gentle murmur, crossing her hands in the center of her chest. Cedric was still puzzled, failing to follow your gaze as it locked with George. 

“What does that mean?” Cedric tried to decipher, puzzling in his seat. Elle grinned to herself, leaning her head sweetly upon your shoulder and batting her lashes up at you. 

“It means our girl’s got a plan,” Elle gleamed happily, a shimmy of excitement passing through her shoulders while you squeezed her to your side. You rolled your eyes at her silliness, bopping her forehead gently with your palm. 

“I may,” you shrugged, Elle yanking her frame upwards and pulling Cedric in cheerfully. Elle was overjoyed, slowly able to put the truth in place without the entirety of explanation. She saw the way you glanced at George, the yearning enjoyment and delight that radiated off of you while just looking at him. Elle was happy for you, and Cedric on the other hand, was just lost.

“Gosh, such a tease! I expect all the details later,” Elle declared, knowing it was to come when they had a bit more privacy. You shared everything with Elle, so it wasn’t a surprise this would have to make the cut a bit later. 

Cedric’s index interrupted as he leaned in again, “I do not need all the details, but I would like to know as well.” You and Elle laughed, falling over one another. 

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Diggs!” You beamed brightly at both of them, rejoicing about your return while bickering conversations with them over dinner. For an unknown reason, your head pulled up once more at the sight of another figure strolling through the entrance towards the end of the meal. Draco had missed almost the entire dinner, but didn’t care in the slightest while he made his way over to Slytherin. His face was hard, hands stuffed in the sides of his juniper robe and wearing a miserable frown. It wasn’t misplaced, but you did notice it, as well as his intentional avoidance of your stealthy stare. He sat himself down beside Goyle and Crabbe, but did reach for food. You told yourself it wasn’t your business and pleaded with your reasoning to look away and ignore him, but his refusal to eat even at this one meal made you worried. 

Dinner was cleared and after a few moments, all of the students began to blend with the other houses. Zacharias made his way over from the opposite end of the Hufflepuff table with a few other guys trailing behind him, their only intention was conversing with Cedric about the Tournament. You did a quick observation, looking around the entire room to try and gage how many students realistically submitted their names to the Goblet of Fire. Out of all the students that were of age, you guessed that there were a few dozen of Hogwarts students that had entered their names as well. Meaning Cedric had less chance, something you crossed your fingers on right now just under the table in your lap. Cedric was just another student, he had a slim chance of being picked and that is what you found yourself balancing on, nervously. 

Please don’t let it be him, you begged mentally. You knew he could do it, but you didn’t want to chance his safety with the threat of the Tournament’s danger. Dumbledore commanded everyone to their seats, and they did so, all eagerly anticipating the next move. You all watched as he threw his hand out towards the torches hanging from the ceiling and they all dimmed, plunging the room into even more darkness. You were holding your breath, stiff as could be in your seat. You’d wound up between Elle and Cedric during the shifting after dinner, Elle looking over at your nervous features and setting her hand comfortingly upon your own in your lap. You looked over at her and she sent you a hopeful smile, though it was filled with anxiety. You both shared the same concealed concern for your friend, while he solely sought championship. 

Headmaster Dumbledore approached the Goblet, his hand raised to the side of the golden chalice. The lapis flames began to spark in a ruby frenzy, shooting out a scrap of parchment which Dumbledore caught respectfully in his hand. He turned to the Durmstrang boys section and announced their champion as none other than the legend himself, “Viktor Krum”. Not only did their school erupt in cheers, there was equal excitement expressed within the other schools. Most clapped to be polite, but the rest were fans. You looked over to see Fred and George aiding loudly in the applause, rolling your eyes with a soft smile seeping to your lips. 

The flames remained a crimson blaze, enchanting indeed. It would grow smaller right before it shot out another name, a delicate feather-looking piece came next. Dumbledore faced the Beauxbatons and turned the small object to read, “Fleur Delacour”, as their champion. Your stomach dropped, instinctively grabbing ahold of Cedric’s hand as it rested upon the tabletop, your fingers intertwined with his own clammy digits. You just squeezed his hand, not even tearing your eyes away from Dumbledore while he shook hands with Fleur and sent her off after Viktor. You knew you were still holding your breath, both of your hands now held tightly to Cedric and Elle. Elle squeezed your hand just as hard, but Cedric was still calm. You were probably on the verge of passing out when the fire spewed another smaller scrap of parchment that floated peacefully down to Dumbledore, who snatched it between his fingers and read it carefully. 

“The Hogwarts Champion,” you were sure you blacked out, crushing your friends hands and suffocating yourself into paleness just as the syllables formed, “Cedric Diggory!” 

It felt as though you were dreaming, a nightmare of sorts. You released their hands, turning towards where Cedric sat, already bowing his head in a grand smile. You pushed everything down, knowing you couldn’t harm his win with your own worry. 

“That would be you, Diggs!” You squealed, dragging him by his sleeve to his feet as the cheers erupted from your own house, applause and hollers echoing off the walls. Cedric had a huge smile on his lips, accepting the praise with a triumphant blush as he pulled you into a quick, but tightly reassuring hug. He’d managed to pull Elle to her feet as well and you all shared a brief group hug while he was patted on the back and congratulated. He had to go, pulling away with the same proud reflection before meeting Dumbledore and then disappearing off passed the professors. 

You watched the next few minutes of unbelievable chaos, but you were still horrified mentally. Elle had wrapped her arm around you to try and calm you down, but you were still as stiff as stone. Out of all the students, it had been your best-friend that claimed the impending challenge of championship. The others were still confused and irritatingly troubled about Potter’s sudden inclusion when the flames danced one more time and produced a scrap with Harry’s name. They called him a cheat, but you weren’t sold on his own fearful reaction and hesitating acceptance to disappear after Cedric. You were dismissed and instructed to return to your houses immediately, the professors filing out just a few seconds after Harry. 

You found your breath finally when Elle gathered you to your feet and you followed the crowd to make your exit. “He’s going to be fine, you know him,” Elle added on your way out. You gave her a slightly convincing nod, both of your heads turning at the sound of your names being called. You made it into the hallway, pausing to wait for the others who maneuvered the mobs of students in order to reach you. 

“Are we on our way back to yours to celebrate?” George asked, flooding to your side with his casual, goofy grin that you returned happily. Your shoulder brushed against his own purposefully. 

“That is the plan,” you answered, falling into step beside him and the others in the direction of Hufflepuff. Elle spun around to walk backwards to address Seamus, who walked past her. 

“Unless Finnegan has recanted about the--” she started, cocking a disbelieved brow that was silenced by Seamus. 

“I will see you all in Hufflepuff in just a few. I’ve got an errand to run,” Seamus was smirking right before he took off in the opposite direction. You all took a moment to consider whether or not he was truthful about his acquirement of the Veritaserum.

“So he says,” Elle muttered, eyes narrowing after Seamus. You rolled your eyes, Elle linking her arm through Ginny’s while you casted your glance up towards George, brows furrowing with a gentle giggle. George’s brows seamed together in a curious knit down to you. Curse your damn knees, making you almost identical to Ginny’s height as she was younger than you. You blamed pathetic genetics, both of your parents considerably tall, yet you were a little gnome compared to the Weasley wonders.

“You have purple paint behind your ear, George,” you informed him, reaching out your index to trace the splatter of orchid stained to his skin just behind his ear. George followed your fingers with a defeated groan, his fingers brushing against your own and sending a warm tingle down your arm. 

“Hey,” he called, slapping away your hand with a gesture towards your own paint mark residing on the side of your neck. “I wouldn’t talk, red robin.” You hit him with your hip, pulling your collar higher up your neck. 

“Mine is practically unnoticeable,” you brushed your hair forward to aid in covering it, Fred sliding into step on your opposite side.

“Not exactly,” Fred denied, a flick of your hair over your shoulder revealing the mark once more quite obviously. “Your hair is not enough, if I may, we have a marvelous Weasley product for just this--” your eyes widened, realizing where Fred had been going with this. You shook your head immediately, darting a denying finger to silence him.

“Quiet Freddie! The last time I tried one of your sweets capsules, my fingers turned green and I couldn’t speak straight for weeks,” a cringe spiraled down your spine at the memory, shaking your head repeatedly.

“That is only because you tasted it in its early developmental phase,” Fred resolved, George finishing the idea that felt very excusatory. 

“And it was a bad recipe from the start,” George had managed to begin fidgeting with your fingers as they swayed at your side while you both walked. It made you smile like a fool to yourself, still involved in the discussion while your fingers played with his own. 

“Yeah right,” Neville muttered from behind you, causing Fred to snap back towards him. 

“Neville!” Fred scowled. Neville took a few long strides to catch up, a joking panic rifling through his words. 

“Don’t listen to them, their candies are bloody awful! Save yourself--” you joined Neville’s laughter, the twins glaring at him while trying to block him out of the conversation. 

“Excuse Longbottom, he’s not feeling well,” George swung you around to rid Neville of your attention. 

“And I expect you both would be behind it if he was ill,” you responded causing George to consider it for a moment with another glance over his shoulder to Neville.

“Irrelevant,” George coughed. Fred chose to change the topic back to their work.

“Neville enjoys them. If I could recommend our newest creation--” Fred added with a persuading gesture towards the inside of his robe, where a few of their goodies strangely, but somewhat conveniently laid hidden in the fabric. You shut his robe quickly.

“You both are absolutely ridiculous! The answer is no, thank you Neville!” You prodded them both for space with your elbows, less so for George, but still enough to get the refusal across.

“Yes, ma’am,” Neville piped in from behind the guys. 

“Ridiculous? Try brilliant geniuses, then yes. Very much so,” George clarified, giving your hand a gentle squeeze to catch your attention seriously for a moment. “We’ll meet you there. Watch over Gin for us, will you?” Fred patted Ginny’s shoulder and was about to turn to walk the opposite way when Elle came in. 

“Of course. She we actually like,” Elle sang, jumping on her toes to swat both of the boys just up the back of their heads. Fred rubbed his head while George grinned. 

“Thank you,” he responded, gratefully, trying to pull Fred along. Fred was still furrowing his brows towards Elle, dramatically rubbing the back of his hair. 

“I have never met a more ruthless duo of Huffles. Is Diggory the only nice one?” Fred called, slower steps after George as you both called after him. 

“Yes he is,” you admitted aloud in unison, grinning widely. You didn’t realize it so clearly then, but she was your Fred Weasley, your twin by chance rather than blood. 

“We will see you in a bit,” George slowed to grab his brother and yank him along. You laughed, turning towards the slow steps of Dean Thomas and Neville who had fallen behind. 

“Dean, Nev, come along,” you skipped backwards to retrieve them. You draped your hands through both of their arms and rushed them to reunite with Elle and Ginny. They chuckled, joining the group warmly. “We need help setting up anyways.” 

“Especially since Zacharias and his boys are useless,” Elle raised her voice, as if intentionally calling them out as they pushed their way through your own group. Zacharias stopped hearing his name, turning to face Elle with a drawn brow. 

“Excuse me?” Zacharias asked, head tilted forward. 

“You heard me, Zachy,” Elle shot right back, no hesitation whatsoever as she presented Zacharias with a list. “We need some delightful drinks, decor, and more of Cedric’s friends to come celebrate his choosing as Hogwarts champion.”

“You mean a Hogwarts champion,” Zacharias corrected Elle, causing her to scoff shortly and wave her hand to silence him. 

“I have no reason to talk about Harry right now. This night was Diggory’s from the beginning and for crying aloud, he’s going to get it!” Elle declared, face resuming into a squishy grin, lashes batting over at Zacharias. “Be a good boy and hurry along to find what I asked.”

“Whatever,” Zacharias cursed, turning his back and resuming his place among his friends. He passed out assignments as soon as he had returned. 

“Thank you!” Elle laughed after the group, tossing her hair victoriously over her shoulder. You faked an applause and Ginny leaned in. 

“Is he always like that?” the youngest Weasley asked, curiously. 

“What? Annoying or eager to obey Elle’s every wish?” You tried to identify the question for her, but inevitably failed to find a difference. “Because yes. Whatever it was, yes. That’s just the Elle effect.” Ginny’s face twisted in confusion again, puzzling presenting itself clear on her features.

“The Elle effect,” Elle agreed with no clarifying explanation. She met your gaze and winked, your hand squeezing Ginny’s arm. 

“The Elle effect?” Ginny asked, both of the boys trying to decipher a meaning as well. 

“The Elle effect,” you agreed, absolutely nothing offered after that. Instead, you and Elle shared the privileged laughter of a stupid inside joke. 

Your group beat the rest back to Hufflepuff, Elle quickly informing those who wished to join the celebration while you, Ginny and Neville began straightening up the common room. Dean and Elle had begun directing Zacharias and the others, who returned moments later with everything she had asked of him. Zacharias could be an annoying irk from time to time, but he was smart enough not to argue with Elle, and also didn’t mind helping out when it pertained to Hufflepuff’s golden boy, Diggory. 

Fred and George beat Cedric back as well. They granted Hufflepuff the grand honor of testing out their latest creations in the Skiving Snackbox, as well as a couple of favorable beverage options. You hadn’t even seen them come in, a few of Cedric’s older friends had spelled a ‘Diggory’ banner that you and Elle were currently attempting to position just above the fireplace. 

“Isn’t this one of the perks we should be taking advantage of as witches?” Elle whined, both of you failing miserably. You were about the same height, so your reach was barely high enough to get over the top of the pit. 

“That would be cheating,” Fred suddenly chimed from behind you, George taking a few more steps to examine the banner just over your shoulder. You grinned back at him, noticing both of them had changed into casual wear, nearly identical Gryffindor hoodies. There was something about George in a hoodie that made you notice how extremely warm it was beside the fireplace, his hair tousled just right and eyes full of careless glee. 

“It would be magical assistance, Weasley,” you clarified, glancing to where Fred now stood beside Elle. 

“Or you could say please,” George offered, grinning widely down at you. Fred cracked his fingers and positioned his back against the stonewall, winking over at Elle. 

“And have our necks broken when you or your brother goof-off and drop us? I think not,” Elle scoffed, shaking her head rapidly. Fred and George exchanged a hurt gaze, gasping. 

“Us? Goof-off?” Fred asked, sarcastically. George finished his sentence. 

“Never,” George laughed, causing you to elbow him in the side.

“You will be responsible for mending every bone you break,” You warned, raising an index towards George. 

“That makes it sound like a competition,” George’s brows jumped, intriguingly. You rolled your eyes, heat undeniably permanent on your cheeks thanks to his presence. 

“One sickle I can break--” Fred challenged, eagerly enthusiastic while Elle took a threatening step towards him. Fred threw his hands up in surrender.

“You’re not funny,” Elle clarified for both of them. They both shook their heads in unison. 

“No, of course not,” Fred agreed simply, Elle hesitantly preparing to use his gesture. 

“We’re bloody hilarious,” George answered, nudging your side. George too pressed his back to the wall and assumed a seated position with his knees bent, fingers folded in to provide a platform. 

“Hilarious better just worry about being still,” Elle forewarned them. You sent her a slightly nervous glance, both of you already kicking off your slippers. 

“You drop me and I will--” you started to warn, actually not sure what kind of threat would hold weight towards George. The foot of your tights felt cold against the floor, taking cautious steps towards George, who cut you off with a genuine grin. 

“I would never drop you,” he stated. You didn’t know what compelled you to trust in that ridiculous goofy grin of his, but you did. “On purpose,” he muttered, your head snapping down at him in horror just a moment too late. You had already softly slid your feet into his hands and held tight to the wall while he slowly began to lift.

“Excuse me?” you questioned over the sound of Elle and Fred bickering about whether or not he could drop her. She held deathly tight to the wall with you, hands still struggling to place the banner evenly. 

“You should consider hurrying up,” George groaned from below you, one of his hands moving to sturdy your stance with a supporting hand to your thigh. Your breath caught at the movement, mind immediately in the gutter as your skin sparked tingles through your limbs from his touch. You glanced down momentarily to find him avoiding the gaze up your skirt, quite respectably. A true chivalrous gent, you thought while wearing the biggest blush in your cheeks. 

“Y/n, up a bit. Elle, you need to pull a snag,” Neville’s voice directed from just down below, ringing you back into reality. You tried to follow his friendly suggestion, but your sudden gesture in moving the banner slightly up caused your balance to shift. You held stiff to the stones, knees wobbling for just a split-second.

“You’re good,” George calmed you, repositioning himself below you. He held your thigh tighter, assuring your steady posture in his grip. 

“Like that?” Elle asked, having already fixed her side. 

“Looks great,” Neville agreed, both of his thumbs raised. You both tacked it in place. 

“Thank you, Neville!” You cleared your throat, George standing up at the same time he dropped you to catch your sides before you could actually land. You squealed lightly at the quick motion, thinking he’d actually dropped you, and then immediately being almost against his chest right below him. It had knocked the breath out of you, trying to find something to hold onto came to just grasping at the first thing that brushed against your hands, which happened to be the front of his sweater.

“Told you so,” George whispered down towards you, grin still in place upon his lips. You suffered an inability to rid the wide, toothy smile of your own. You released the fabric of his hoodie after a moment, taking a soft step back. “Did you doubt me?” 

“Never,” you clarified, both of your joking tones dulled out into soft laughter. 

“Glad to be of some help,” Neville sighed, causing all of you to turn towards him. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to decipher the bored blunder on his appearance. Ginny and Dean had occupied space on the sofa and were currently deep into conversation, sharing in laughter among themselves. 

“No gloomy moods. It wouldn’t be a night to remember without you, Longbottom,” Elle appeared and patted his shoulder while you floated to the opposite. 

“How about a drink, Nev?” you asked, fluttering your lashes up at him. Neville didn’t take long to consider your invite. 

“Sure,” he agreed, allowing you to lead him to where Zacharias and the others were still arranging the cups. 

“Damn, Longbottom stole her before I could even offer,” you could hear George groan to his brother. You turned back towards him, still stuck in smiles. 

“You take too long,” you teased, finding Neville a drink and starting small talk. You and Neville talked for a while, both of you choosing rather light drinks, but you grabbing a stronger option for Elle. You were on your way back to join the others, who had drifted back to Ginny and Dean on the sofa. Elle met you halfway with the intention of discussing the details regarding George, happily slipping the cup from your hand instead.

You were nearly back with the others when thumping came down the steps into Hufflepuff. 

“Diggory!” Everyone seemed to cheer at the same second Cedric descended the stairs. His face spun into surprise, and then joyous excitement. 

“What’s this?” he asked no specific person, looking around the crowd until he found you and Elle. You both shrugged your shoulders, faking oblivious gestures. 

“Don’t look at us, it was all Zacharias,” Elle answered, taking your hand and skipping over to where Cedric stood, still shocked. Zacharias' brows furrowed in confusion at misplaced credibility, knowing it would just earn his reputation good in others eyes. Elle was weird like that, she cared, even if she acted like she hated you. She spun you around to flatten you between herself and Cedric in another tight group hug that sucked the air out of you, careful not to spill your cup. You pulled Cedric in close. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, already anxious about the entire situation. It was odd and did not sit well inside of you, especially after the freaky insertion of Harry last minute, the champion that was not supposed to be. 

“Never been better,” Cedric clarified near your ear, an applause radiating through the entire crowd. You finally released Cedric and Zacharias brought him a cup with another firm slap to his shoulder to congratulate him in a weird brotherly way. 

“To our Hufflepuff hero and Hogwarts Champion,” Elle shouted over the crowd, holding her cup up high. You followed her gesture along with the rest of the crowd, finishing her paused sentence. 

“Cedric Diggory!” You yelled his name with so much excitement, still fending off the nausea inside of you. The group exclaimed in loud cheers and hollers, singing out his name and then bringing their cups to their lips. You drank to celebrate Cedric, happily, wanting to take your mind off of all of it anyways. He was then pulled away by Zacharias to drink and engulf in praise. You and Elle figured it was bound to happen and strolled back over to the others. You and Elle plopped down onto the floor 

"Why does your kitten not have a name yet? It's been weeks, what do you call it?" Ginny asked, currently petting the small bundle who cuddled beside her foot, bathing in the warmth from the fireplace. A shrug bounced in your shoulders, knitting loose braids into Elle's blue locks while the boys still roared surprised celebrations to Cedric. You didn't want to ruin his fun, knowing what was awaiting him once Seamus had returned with the Veritaserum, but you were worried. With the way Headmaster Dumbledore had explained it, nothing but dangerous challenges lied ahead of him in the tournament. Tonight, he was himself, embracing the praise and living off the chaotic energy sparking life through the Hufflepuff common room.

"What do you mean your cat hasn't got a name?" Neville asked from the sofa, squeezed between Ginny and Dean Thomas. They all looked equally confused. You chuckled, once again shrugging your shoulder while you pulled Elle's hair into tighter twists. Fred and George had been begged relentlessly to join the guys, and accepted after a pitiful glance towards you. You brushed it off, and resulted in braiding Elle’s hair while biding your time waiting for Seamus. With every passing moment, you grew less and less sure he was coming. 

“I haven’t thought of one yet,” you answered, rather truthfully. You hadn’t been sold on a permanent name, so ‘kitty’ worked most of the time. You were one of the only Hufflepuffs who had a black kitten, he was normally getting lost in the shadows anyways. 

“We were considering Snape,” Elle joked, earning a bit of unsure laughter from the group. Most believed she was joking, but you had actually discussed the possibility. 

“Professor Snape? What ever for?” Dean asked, looking between you and Elle to try and figure if it was an honest consideration or not.

“Why not? He looks like a Snape,” you responded, finishing with Elle’s braids and taking a sip from what you believed to be your cup. Elle scooted to lean her back against the couch, recognizing her cup in your hands and proceeding to swipe it from your grasp and replace it with the right one as your face twisted in a cringe. She sent you an apologetic glance, giggling to herself. 

“If Snape were a little, black kitten?” Ginny asked, confused. 

“Precisely,” Elle replied, raising her cup to clink her own against Ginny’s. You served Ginny the cup yourself, giving the Weasley baby just water. 

“It’s fitting,” Neville commented, grinning down to you and Elle. “I, for one, like it.” 

“Thank you, Neville,” you beamed back at him. You weren’t sure if it was Dean or one of the other Gryffindors that had randomly sat among your group and brought Harry into the conversation. You didn’t like talking about him like they were, convinced he was a cheat and a crook that had actually foiled the rules of the Tournament to enter. They called him names and that was when you excused yourself, Ginny stopping the gossip a moment after you stepped out into the hall. 

You just wanted to breathe for a moment, poking out your head to assure the corridor was barren before tiptoeing out. That was when you realized you hadn’t slid your slippers back on after hanging the banner. The cold felt refreshing on the bottom of your feet, so you didn’t complain. You stood with your back against the wall beside the painting, humming to yourself. You were pathetic, honestly. 

Just a moment after being alone in a silent corridor did your mind drift back to your argument with Draco earlier. You thought about what he had said and sought to neglect the thoughts, but they withstood every attempt at redirection. You were thinking about him again, comparing your argument just now to the one you’d had in his private quarters when he confessed to not being able to let you go. Or what you had thought was him confessing, now realizing that all of it was an outrageously cowardice scheme to just get sex out of you again. You really were a brainless beaut when it came to Draco Malfoy. 

Draco Malfoy. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back onto the stone with a soft exhale escaping your parted brims. In the darkness of your eyes, you pictured him through memory. You used your insight to draw his features in the balance of your mind, until they became more solid. Without intent, his features began to morph into the angles of his quarters. Behind your eyes, an entire scenery unfolded revealing Draco’s bed in the dim light of his room. You were confused, initially just musing over the idea of his handsome attributes which had now become a locus segment. As if it was a memory, you didn’t see Draco, but appeared to be seeing this remembrance through his eyes. He was flipping through pages of a book you didn’t recognize, worn parchment with blank ink pages and tiny writing, legs out under him. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you, eyes still closed when you admitted into the solitude of the hall, “you’re losing it, l/n.” 

When you kept your eyes closed, you watched the scene change after you spoke. Draco had picked his head from the book and was now shifting his gaze through the room. You thought it was odd, as if he was currently reacting to hearing your voice. Your stomach dropped at the idea, the unbelievable possibility that played in the back of your mind remotely. 

“There you are. Are we really being that intolerable?” George interrupted, causing your eyes to spring open and the scene to disappear immediately. You cleared your throat, rushing back into your own body while fumbling over words, trying to find the truth after the very peculiar episode in your head. 

“No, I just, uh--needed a moment,” you clarified, nodding your head towards where George had rested beside you against the wall. He let you calm down, having been scared again by his popping in. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, over more than just a jumpy personality. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so decided to avert.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, curiously. George tapped his cup against yours and you laughed, taking a sip just as he did. 

“Where do I start?” George sang, cocking a brow down at you while explaining his questioning. “I happened to glance over after Cedric’s name was called, do I sense some worry there?”

You shifted on your feet, dropping your head. “You really are quite perceptive, aren’t you Weasley?’ 

“It’s one of many talents,” George nodded, leaning into your shoulder. He wanted to show you that he was there, listening, and you appreciated it. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

“Not particularly,” you dismissed it, honestly not wanting to share your anxiety over this whole Tournament with anyone. He was already a part of it. 

“Anything particular you would like to talk about?” George asked, taking another swig from his own cup. You laughed to yourself, a gentle rub to your forehead. 

“I would like to apologize for trying to snog you earlier in detention,” you bowed your head in humiliation, George simply scoffing with an annoyed groan. 

“Are you still on about that?” George asked, causing you to nod dramatically. You were still embarrassed with yourself, you couldn’t believe you’d done something like kissing him with the risk of losing him as a friend. Especially since now you were having all kinds of feelings you wished would stop. 

“It was improper of me, I shouldn’t have--” you tried to apologize for it again, George pushing himself off the wall and standing in front of you, rather than beside you. 

“You know what,” he stopped you in an agreeing tone. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I should have,” George cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to your own. You saw stars, freezing under his touch for a moment and then responding with an equally tender kiss against his lips. He kissed you with intimacy that bore gentleness and had butterflies bursting through your total body. Your arms found themselves reaching around his neck to draw him deeper into the kiss, still perched as high on your toes as possible to reach his lips. You were still too short. 

The only thing that caused you to break apart was the sound of shuffling around the corner. You cleared your throat, fingers covered over your lips to hide the blood that flushed to your features when the noise had caused you both to take a step apart. 

“You should have,” you agreed, grinning up at him. He actually laughed at your stupid remark. “That’s probably Seamus, can you let the other know he’s here?” You asked, George nodding his head. 

“I should have a while ago,” he replied, his own face enriched in a deep blush. “Yeah, I’ll see you in there?”

“I don’t know, I might make a run for it,” you sighed, sarcastically. He paused in the doorway while facing you. 

“Come get me first, I’m always on board for some runaway love action,” he snickered, winking at you. You blushed harder, swatting his shoulder with your palm. 

“Go on, you dork,” you instructed him, running a hand through your hair with a deep breath. 

“Yes, m’lady,” he obeyed, disappearing down the stairs as you plunged yourself into silent giggles after he was gone. You were giddy with glee, your body immediately excited and overall cheery following your kiss with George. You shook your body, trying to rid that contagious goofy grin of its effects on you and walking over to investigate what you’d heard. 

“Seamus!” you tilted your head, seeing Seamus hurrying down the corridor with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked like he was up to no good, jumping nearly ten feet back at the sound of your voice, a relieved sigh coming from his lips after he registered it was just you. “Are you alright?” 

“Course,” he answered, jogging over to you. He cleared the corridor with a swift glance before removing his hand from his pocket and opening his palm to reveal the tiny, curved vial. It was deep in color, almost reflecting the dim light in a hue of deep green. “I’ve got it.” 

“Great,” you sighed, wishing he came empty handed instead. “Go easy on him, will you?” 

Seamus actually laughed, walking beside you down into the Hufflepuff common room. “He lost the wager. Your body Diggory can’t play cards to save his skin,” he explained in a mocking tone, the others growing excited as Seamus had finally arrived. There weren't a lot of people left to watch, others had already dismissed themselves for the evening after celebrating for a bit with Cedric. You filed in beside Elle and Ginny on the floor while the twins and Dean shared the sofa and Neville sat opposite Elle. You sat right in front of George, your back resting between his knees, both of you still smiling without actually looking at one another. 

Cedric didn’t look nervous. Zacharias set up a chair right in front of the little crowd which Cedric took without question, he never minded being the center of attention. They had agreed on eleven questions after arguing on and on, both were rather awful at negotiating until Elle grew sick of it and decided for them. 

“Just a few drops, Ced,” you warned the moment Seamus passed him the tiny vial. He nodded down at you, already knowing better himself, but appreciating the reassurance from you. Elle nudged your side, you were always so protective. He took a deep breath and then drank a couple droplets. You all watched as if something would miraculously happened, staring wide-eyed at Cedric who just relaxed into the chair. 

“Is that it?” Elle asked, raising a brow towards Seamus. Seamus turned to her with a trench in his thick brows. 

“Yeah, it’s a truth serum, not blimey Transfiguration, what did you expect?” Seamus declared obviously. You all settled, realizing that he was quite right. 

“Maybe for him to sing all of his secrets?” Fred asked from the sofa. Seamus glanced between Cedric and Fred, throwing his hand out. 

“Ask him something,” Seamus directed. You all glanced around at each other. You really hadn’t wanted to participate at all, and you were lucky Zacharias huffed and took the first stab at questioning. 

“Who are you?” Zacharias asked, blandly. The rest of you were ready to yell at him for being so bland, but Cedric beat you to it. 

“Cedric Diggory, son of Amos Diggory. Sixth year at Hogwarts. Head boy for Hufflepuff House. Quidditch Captain and Seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, true Hogwarts Champion for the Triwizard Tournament of 1994,” Cedric did not skip a beat. He spoke quickly, but calmly, stating all of the obvious in a general admission. None of it was privileged, but you did believe the last comment happened to be somewhat of an insult to Harry, who was not here to speak for himself.

“That was a waste of a question, just so you are all aware,” Seamus commented, unamused as the rest of you. “We knew all of that.” Cedric was still content, not even the slightest bit fazed. 

“I’ll go. Cedric Diggory, what is your biggest fear?” Ginny asked, tilting her head genuinely curious. It was a good question considering he’d just been selected to compete in one of the most dangerous competitions in Wizarding history.

“Disappointing my father,” Cedric admitted immediately. Everyone grew silent, sharing unease glances. 

“Gosh, that got deeper than any of us wanted. Next?” George remarked, uncomfortably. You weren’t. You knew that about him, and you admired it, but knew he was always too hard on himself. Amos always spoke wonders of his boy, who lived to make him as proud as the man could be. 

“I’ve got this. Ceddy-bear, who is your best friend?” Elle asked next, her cheerful tone bringing life back into the room. 

“Y/n,” Cedric confessed instantly. You grinned at him, sitting proudly as Cedric winked down at you. It had been you and him since the start, of course you honestly still remained his best-friend. 

“Wow. Just hurt my own feelings there,” Elle sighed sarcastically, not really hurt but amusing a sinking of her frame back into the couch. You threw your arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close.

“Cedric, if you could be any one of us girls, who would you be?” You asked, wanting to change the topic without really making a big fuss about it. 

“Ginny. It would be nice to have that many brothers-- siblings in general,” Cedric really wasn’t thinking about the answers. He was blurting out the truth as soon as the question was asked. Fred and George shared a high-five and Ginny rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not as great as it seems,” Ginny pointed out, earning herself scoffs from her elder brothers who glared at her. 

“I’ve got a sister you can keep,” Elle offered, a shrug to her shoulders that followed a chuckle from Cedric. 

“No thanks, Nymphodora does not like me very much,” Cedric stated, causing you both to laugh at the statement. It was true, they’d only met one another once and it was not great. 

“Diggory, I’ve got one!” Zacharias jumped back in. “Currently, who do you hate most?”

He didn’t hesitate, a frown even gathering itself on his face, “Malfoy.” Your stomach churned in despair at the mention, gaze drawing to the carpet while your features grew pale. 

“Draco Malfoy? Why—?” Dean Thomas asked, the line of inquiring being cut off immediately by your savior, Elle. 

“Come on, there’s many reasons to hate Draco Malfoy,” Elle dismissed the comment, immediately receiving numerous agreements from the others who nodded. 

“Very true,” George conceded along with the others. You begged for someone to ask the next question, needing the discussion to move on from hate towards Malfoy. You held the title in that territory, but it was the last thing you needed right now, trying to enjoy time with friends. 

“Cedric, what is the one thing you cannot live without?” Neville asked, innocently. 

“My friends. And pumpkin juice most likely,” Cedric responded.

“Should we be offended he inserted us there among bloody pumpkin juice?” Elle muttered, tilting her head to you. You patted her head as it fell upon your shoulder. Fred and George laughed, overhearing her confusion. 

“Would you come between Ced and his damn pumpkin juice?” You asked her, raising a brow. She considered it for a moment and then proceeded to answer her own question. No. The boy loved pumpkin juice.

“Pretty boy, which house would you rather be in?” Fred asked from behind you two. 

“Gryffindor,” Cedric chuckled, also another answer he didn’t need time to ponder. Elle was about to ask again, but you shook your head before she could draw out the words. You were out-numbered in Gryffindor attendees, each of them taking it as a victory.

“A win for the home of the brave!” Fred cheered, exchanging high-fives with Neville and Dean-Thomas while George bothered Seamus and Ginny. You and Elle rolled your eyes, having just Zacharias to account for Hufflepuff. 

“We totally understand why,” George praised, confidently. You elbowed his leg as it hung at your side. He kicked you lightly right back and you laughed lightly under your breath. 

“Diggory! If you had to pick a professor—” Dean Thomas asked, eagerly. 

“No!” Cedric groaned, only objecting for a split-second before answering, “Professor Trelawney.” 

“Gross, Dean!” Everyone groaned at Dean’s question, Elle even whacking the boy with a pillow. 

“I’ll see your question and raise you. How about a male professor?” Fred inserted, earning even more objection from Cedric and the rest of you. 

“Please don’t make me answer—Professor Lupin,” he inevitably answered. You couldn’t contain your laughter, both you and Elle sprawling across one another in contagious fits. You didn’t even realize George had been gazing down at you, adoringly enraptured by the sound of your splendid giggles. 

“At least he has good taste,” Elle was nearly rolling in laughter. That he did. While the others yarned after Professor Lockheart second year, you and Elle were much more interested in Professor Lupin third year. You didn’t know if it was the scars or kind eyes and messy hair, he was just the perfect example of a man. It was a joke to the both of you, neither of you actually developing a crush on the Professor, but still enjoying laughter that came from finding him so attractive. 

“Cedric, who do you believe the most attractive guy is here?” Seamus asked, Cedric’s brows knitting in complete obviousness. 

“I am, no question.”

“Then?” Seamus asked in a sigh, not pleased with his honest answer. You laughed, catching Cedric’s gaze as he pondered the next viable answer. He squirmed a bit. 

“The twins?” Cedric stated in more of a curious question. This was not doing well for their humbleness. Fred and George cheered again. 

“Another win!” Fred exclaimed, happily. 

“Just stating the obvious,” George laughed in unison with his brother, even Ginny groaning aloud at their reactions. You couldn’t talk, you were very biased. You tilted your head on the couch to glance up at George. He met your eyes with that goofy grin of his and you blushed hard, deep swirls of cherry blossoming in your cheeks. You were a sucker for that face, his hand leaning down to brush one of your stray strands from your eyes and lingering for a moment on your cheek. You didn’t care who was watching, you were happy soaking in his warm and lively presence. He may have been a dork, but he brought out the best of you and you weren’t always feeling inadequate. He made you happy, memories of foolish dancing in the hall and paint fights shared with conversations in the boys lavatory and short kisses, they all felt like what you deserved. 

“Cedric! Final question, what is your deepest secret?” you had spaced out in your stare with George that you really hadn’t even registered when Seamus asked the question he’d been dying to ask. Cedric didn’t twitch or fidget, he spoke with no hesitation with all respect to the Veritaserum. 

“I am in love with y/n.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, did that just happen? You knew something was there with Cedric, but could you have expected this? And it looks like Malfoy isn't taking the latest blow too hard, he's making friends with a beauty of Beauxbatons. Thoughts? I didn't think it was going to be this difficult to write for the twins, was it alright? Thank you so much for reading! Please continue to leave kudos, comments, whatever you wish! I appreciate it all! 
> 
> (Personal Note, as of 11/13, I have not had a chance to edit so I will be going back and getting that taken care of at another date.)


	11. Tether Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reluctantly accepting a deviant proposal by none other than the Weasley wonders presents you with an opportunity to address matters with Professor Snape, the one person barely willing to offer assistance when it comes to one you both harbor pitiful aversion towards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for making you wait, but thank you for being patient with me! This chapter is more oriented towards storyline so I apologize truly for lack of smut and fluff, but the ending is good and I'm even more excited for the next chapter! I would like to take a second to extend my greatest appreciation to all of you! You are all marvelous angels for continuing to read! I love you!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

There was really only one explanation your brain could wrap around; you were dead.

Or maybe even dreaming? You had initially almost blurted out into laughter, figuring the only possibility that made sense was that this had been a joke. Yet, it was not a classic crack of Cedric's comedic charm, more of an aberrantly debauched jab directed towards you. The entire room seemed to plunge itself into utter silence, as if you'd all been sucked into a timeless abyss where you were unable to move or speak. This may have been what that astronomy book was referencing when it described being swallowed and digested entirely by a black hole. The crowd had begun reeling around you, progressing from a barely noticeable whirl into an intensely turbulent spin that made you physically nauseous. 

Everyone was speechless, not even Elle could form real words. It felt like all of the logical sense had been sucked out of your brain, drowning you in a ravine of total daze. You fully believed the idea that you'd been trapped in this awful moment for centuries, time simply an intricate illusion. In reality, it had just been a couple of seconds that passed agonizingly slow. You couldn't contour practical thoughts, your mind became a deserted wasteland refusing to manufacture anything but Cedric's confession on repeat. The words looped through an abundantly endless cycle in your head, denying you permission to actually acknowledge what he had admitted. 

Rather than existing in your own body, you found yourself scouring through time until you recalled receiving his letter and reading the words he'd written over the summer. The pages of parchment that explained he was sorry for what he'd said after irrationally reacting to you and Draco, where he took back the resentful words and the mistake he'd made kissing you. Only, you failed to realize he had never expressed any form of regret when it came to the kiss. Then, you were plummeting back to the Hufflepuff common room, hurling right back through time and space until you crashed back to the floor, Cedric’s muted complexion finally coming back into focus across from you. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so lifeless. 

“Ced--” the syllable barely sounded your own whilst slipping from your brims in a gentle whisper, cut from your lips before they could finish. Cedric cleared a cough and sprung to his timid feet, scarcely giving you a dime to scuffle to your own. 

"Thank you all for this. I appreciated it greatly,” Cedric’s voice too was foreign in the groggy depths of his throat, glance flickering on all faces but yours. He refused to reach your stare, shy denial following the turn of his back towards you all. “Goodnight,” you didn’t let his phrase fall faster than you could scramble to your feet. He was already up the staircase towards the boys dormitory when you started after him. 

"Cedric! Wait!” you cried loudly after him, nearly toppling over while attempting to hurdle the stairs on wobbly, unbalanced legs. You couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your heartbeat screaming in your ears, echoing through your entire body with powerful pulses. You didn’t know why, but your frustration was driving you to the brink of tears, the truth haunting you with every climb until you reached the top. You were in time for the door to slam in your face, vibrating violently on its hinges and just about knocking you onto your rear. 

"Y/n!” Elle hollered after you, groaning the moment you got to your feet and taking a moment to cast the others an apologetic glimpse, then follow quickly. She was just a few steps behind, there to reach out when you’d lost your balance with his door rocking in your face, the reverberations on the doorframe almost bursting your eardrums. Nevertheless, you didn’t stop, your palm patted desperately against the hard oak. 

"Cedric, please--” you begged, one hand pounding harder on the wood while the other rifled harshly with a stiff knob, locked the second it was closed. Cedric fell against the opposite side, cursing himself with his head in his hands and failing to drown out your cries through thin timber.

"Y/n!" Elle shouted again, wrestling your frame apart from the door. You wrestled with her, but she remained stationary to guard the door. She tried to hold you, but you were shoving and resisting the entire fit, grave need to reach through the lumber and fall beside your best-friend.

"Elle! Move," you pleaded aloud, the volume of your arguing erupting even more rowdy down the stairs. You felt so many things, but calm was the absolute last. You hadn’t a clue what you would say to him if he was to ever vacate the room or allow you entry, but you needed to see him after his confession. You needed him, he was your other half in a way that you’d never had of a brother or any sibling. 

"I can't do that. He's not thinking clear--" Elle tried to explain in a tranquil tone, hoping that you would do the same. You figured the exact opposite, vision misty with crystalline shine escaping your eyes.

"But he’s speaking truthfully-" you reasoned right back, hands finally enclosing around Elle’s to stabilize yourself. You hadn’t realized you were swaying, the narrow pathway shrinking around you. 

"It's not the same--" Elle shot right back, shaking her head while inching you back from the door. You budged as easily as she pushed, but her hold also managed to keep you steady. 

"Elle, please! Cedric--" you tossed your head back, thinking you could change tactics and step around her to return to Cedric’s doorway but were mistaken. Elle got in your way again. 

"He is under the Veritaserum! He's not able to speak of his own will--" Elle stated logically. You didn’t listen, formulating your own reasoning based entirely off your need to talk to Cedric. You hadn’t cared who heard your rather noisy debate.

"But if it's his truth, I need to--" you responded, hopelessly. Elle maintained her firm, guarded bearing pried in the arch of the door. 

"Not right now. He was not ready for you to hear that, especially not like this," she cut you off, a sincere softness to her voice. If you took a moment to actually listen to her, you would have known Elle was being rational and sensible. But you didn’t care, you weren’t attending to anything she had to say if she remained in your way.

"Elle, move!" you yelled over her words, ignoring her intentionally. Elle pulled your hands down so you stopped fighting, speaking loudly and clearly directly to you. 

"Listen to me!” Elle instructed, your tearful gaze landing itself upon your dear friend. “You need to leave him be for tonight.” You paused for a moment, drawing a sharp inhale into your lungs and exhaling harshly.

"I can't,” you cried out in the faintest whisper. “I need to see him. Cedric, please let me in!" you began shouting again, not gauging the thin separation the door actually was. He could hear everything, silently falling down a hole inside his head whilst in the solitude of an empty room. 

"I'm sorry,” Elle sighed, the arm she’d twisted around to her backside withdrawing itself in a swift movement. “Somnium," she casted the sleeping spell blindly. You hadn't even registered that she had drawn her wand until your body caved. Everything went black and you were hexed into slumber where you stood. 

Elle flailed about to catch you improperly before you crashed to the ground. She struggled to hold your upper half, your knees giving way and nearly followed by the remainder of your limbs, if not for her "quick" action. Elle fell to her knees to save your head from the impending collision, your head held protectively in her hands as she sighed down the stairs, “since you insisted on staying, at least one of you should make yourself useful and lend me a hand up here!” 

While the others noticed the awkwardness that came with the confession not meant for them and took their leave, Fred was forced to stay and argue with George, who insisted on staying for just another moment. However, if you asked him, it was definitely not to eavesdrop. When he heard Elle's request, he immediately sprung up the stairs after her. Elle had caught the sound of their silent bickering at the bottom of the stairs, neither of them loud enough to compete with your volume, but not silent enough to be entirely drowned out. 

When he reached the top, George had to stop himself from making a teasing remark to reference what Elle had done, coming up the stairs at the same time she was tucking away her wand. The worn expression upon Elle’s face had been enough to make him side against the joke. Which was difficult for him. Elle was already upset with herself for using magic on her best-friend, but had acted instinctively on a whim with Cedric’s best in mind. 

“I’ve got her,” George told Elle in a hushed assist, leaning his lanky frame down and cautiously scooped you safely into his own arms and slipping your head gently from Elle’s hands to cradle it to his own chest. Elle swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly got to her feet. 

“We’re this way,” she informed the Weasley twin, leading him back down the staircase to the one that would lead them to the girls dormitories. George nodded to his brother, who was still standing off to the side at the end of the stairs, then followed Elle right up to the right room. Elle didn’t see him in, she simply pushed open the door and pointed to the correct bed. 

“Thank you, George,” she excused herself, disappearing back down the stairs. Elle said a quick goodnight and somewhat of an apology to Fred, who was still awkwardly teetering on his feet while waiting for his twin. He returned the gesture and tried to dismiss the apology, but Elle was already gone back up the staircase to tap her knuckles gently against Cedric’s door. When she didn’t get a reply, she extracted her wand once more and pointed it towards the doorknob and uttered, “alohomora.” Elle pushed open the door with difficulty, Cedric’s stubborn frame unwilling to move while she squeezed her tiny frame through the smallest gap and then fell to her knees at his side. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him and tugging him in close. He didn’t return the hug, but remained comforted in her grasp for hours. 

George was scared by the shadow on your bed that moved as he neared, your kitten almost giving the poor giant a heart attack. He laid you down and tucked the blankets around you, lingering for only a few more seconds to appreciate the serene beauty of your calm, sleeping features. “Sweet dreams, young Huffle,” George breathed lightly, then made a silent exit. 

When you awoke the next morning, Elle was already sitting on your bed, patiently waiting for you to wake in the least creepy manner. She hadn’t been staring necessarily, but she was not just distracted or mentally remote while you slept before her.

Cedric didn’t wish to see you, and he made it transparently obvious and blatantly known. When he wasn’t avoiding you, he was locking himself in his dormitory or always surrounded by Zacharias and the others. He wouldn’t let you get close, he’d always saunter in the opposite direction to steer clear of any encounter that involved having you near. 

It was absolutely awful. 

He refused to look at you, as if you had done something wrong, and it was breaking your heart. You felt responsible, knowing deep down that a part of the blame did fall to you. He’d admitted it to everyone, indeed, not of his free-will, but a side of him had been convinced through expectation that you would return the sentiment. 

What did you feel? 

You felt like your friendship with Cedric was too important to harm, the risk of exposing any of the bonds you shared with him to peril or compromise was too much of a dangerous venture. Not that it mattered since it was the friendship that seemed to be slipping away from the both of you. 

Days passed, living in this miserable median without Cedric, being rejected at every attempt to confront him about what was said that night. It didn’t help that while mourning the uneasy tension of walking on eggshells in Hufflepuff, Draco had taken it upon himself to parade Charlotte Sebestien of Beauxbatons around like a bloody trophy. 

What has helped? The simple answer; George Weasley being… George Weasley. 

Though he was still puzzled and slightly disoriented from Cedric’s confession under Veritaserum as well, he didn’t demand an answer out of you, nor did he treat you differently. He was still Just George, a charming, flirtatious jokester who was finding more and more excuses to spend his time with you. He was still himself. 

In the beginning, he had asked about Cedric just out of curiosity, noticing how distressed and sad you were owing to the fact that Diggory refused to see you. However, the inquiry made you even more grieved and he dropped it without question. He figured you’d talk to him about it if you were comfortable and he was content with that, worried just under the surface that a part of you might harbor mutual feelings towards Cedric, but not letting in. 

Neither you or George shared a common class together this term, but you did both happen to conveniently end your course schedules with a free period. You had always used that time to get a jump on your studies, finding a quiet table to settle yourself down in and simply attending to classwork until Elle eventually came to bother. Usually having Cedric accompany her just a moment or two later, definitely a sight you missed seeing for days. 

You were spacing out at the empty seats across from you when you heard both Fred and George arguing through the tall shelves. Without your intention, your entire mood seemed to uplift just hearing their voices, the tones of teasing, sarcastic wit hovering humorously while they dove in between the rows.

That night had been uncomfortable to say the least for the others who innocently attended to join in celebration for Cedric, you hadn't even thought about holding Seamus responsible for asking the question or depriving the consequence. It had all been in good humor, with an unseen and rather unfortunate unraveling. You shoved the current bound book in your tote as their voices grew closer and they suddenly emerged from the shelves. 

"Huffle!" Fred and George called in unison, immediately being hushed by the librarian, Miss Pince. Neither of them acknowledged her scowl from across the room, dividing around the tables to make their way over to you. 

"Just the girl we were looking for," George stated with a devious hum, causing you to beam back in response. It was absolutely impossible to not be overtaken by a warm smile when greeted so pleasantly by the Weasley twins. 

"Weasleys," you sang right back, a light wave of your digits just as they slid into the empty seats beside you. You caught the glimpse of familiar mischief still harbored in the reflection of a glance they paid to one another, grins that were hardly innocent. "Are you sure you don't mean victim? You both look like you're up to something. Do I want to know what brought you voluntarily to the library?"

"We would tell you," Fred stated, looking over the notes spread out in front of you while letting his brother finish the charming sentiment.

"But then we would have to kill you,” George insisted, the hint of humor still on his tongue. He leaned over and stole the quill from your hand and tucked it safely behind his ear. 

"You don't think that's a bit dramatic?" you asked, soft laughter hushed just under your breath. They didn’t seem to mind the volume, but you were watched under a skeptic stare from Miss Pince. Not even she had the patience to argue with the Weasley twins. 

"Not at all. Fred?" George scoffed, sitting up straighter so that he could look to his brother just over your head. Fred shook his head immediately. 

"Impossible, George,” Fred agreed with his brother, a growth in his chest which broadened his slim shoulders. “We are never not serious, y/n.” You rolled your eyes, able to see through the clear lie like he was Pinocchio. 

"Sure,” you replied, head bobbing up a bit. “If I guess right, can you tell me?" You asked them, glance still averting curiously between the two boys. 

"No--" Fred declared, his words being cut off by George at your opposite side. 

"Possibly," George invited, the grin on his brims growing while gleaming down at you. "Go on, give it a go." You hummed, the vague obvious answer already figured. 

"Alright," you rendered, taping your finger against the brink of your chin. "I'm going to go out on a very spontaneous limb and guess that it may be an infamous Weasley scheme in the works?" Both of the twins sank in their seats instantly. 

"Hell," Fred groaned, tossing his head back off the chair. George drew the quill from behind his ear and began to diddle it between his digits, contemplating your truth with a mirrored sigh.

"We're screwed," George stated, throwing his head back as well to catch his brother’s gaze around your backside. "I guess we have no choice but to kill her now." You gasped out a muted giggle, matching their gestures and relaxing into the recline of your own chair to insert yourself back into the discussion. 

"If you must, could you make it rather quick? I don't wish to suffer long," you chimed in, a pout of your bottom lip in somewhat of a plea towards the more merciful twin. 

"I was thinking a dive off the Astronomy Tower?" Fred offered, your entire discussion obviously sarcastic, simply fueling into the idiocy of their comedic temperament. You scrunched your nose, not really a fan of heights but dwelling over the rather spectacular view from the Astronomy Tower.

"Too easy," George dismissed the idea from his brother, perking his own thought into a tall sit up on his chair, leaning into the rim of the table while addressing both you and Fred. "How about a swim in the Black Lake?"

"Sounds rather enjoyable?" you commented, arms folding over your chest at the idea. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone swimming in the Black Lake. “I happen to like swimming.”

Unlike you, Fred had actually caught the inclination of his brother’s disturbing proposal. "I reckon it wouldn't be after a little Petrificus Spell," Fred explained, sitting up to crash his knuckles against George’s own extended fist.

"Drowning in the Black Lake?" you asked, a queasiness twisting through your gut. It wasn’t the most ideal death, the image of being absolutely paralyzed while sinking to the dark depths of the lake made your stomach ache. 

"There are worse ways to go," Fred added, watching the pale anxiety write across your face. Your hands knitted together, worriedly picking at the skin of your cuticles in a brittle tick.

"You've thought of it?" you asked him, your body still slipping down the back of your chair. 

"You haven't?" George peeped in, nudging your shoulder light-heartedly. He noticed your shift and tried to alleviate the tension torn in your features, catching your eyes through a reassuring grin. He was able to calm you down just through the gaze exchanged, the lump in your throat dissolving along with the nerves inside. 

"No, not casually," you admitted, noticeably spacing out in his eyes. You were able to regain your composure, but had no reason in particular to draw your attention from George. You felt a mellow comfort becoming of your limbs again while adrift in his honest umber hues. 

"Muggle," Fred cursed, the word muttered just under a deep sigh. George tried to cough over his brother’s playful insult, but failed to muffle the sound from the opposite side of you. You scoffed aloud, finally tearing your attention from George and snapping over to Fred, who snickered happily in his seat.

"I beg your pardon?" you challenged the quirk of your heightened brow, eyes narrowing towards Fred’s mischievous murmur. You drew your fingers to playfully whack him across his shoulder, but he flinched and grabbed his entire chair and tagged it to the opposite side of the table. Fred plopped down backwards across from you and George, hanging over the back of the chair as it faced you. George pulled himself to the front of the table, laying his lanky arms across the tabletop while gazing over your open books.

“What might you be up to this delightful afternoon?” George inquired, his new position causing you to pull yourself up just a few seconds after. You eased back into a neat posture, elbow propped just beside the spine of the wide parchment. 

“It appears you’re not very preoccupied at the moment,” Fred lunged over the length of the table to throw your books closed before you could answer. You sighed, organizing the now shut books into an orderly stack off to the edge of the table. 

“Yes, because focusing on my schoolwork is obviously a waste of time,” you sarcastically added, a slight annoyance to your tone. You shook your head, turning back to George at the same moment his attention discovered a particularly out of place object tossed into your tote that laid open at the leg of your chair. When your gaze finally followed his own down to your bag, your eyes went wide and your foot tried to object, but you were not fast enough. George managed to drag it from it’s lazily hidden place in your bag before you could stop it. “Wait--” you tried to object, but fell just an utter behind. 

"Slytherin Vestige: Legacy Apropos to the Days of Yore? What--" George read the title of the book aloud and flipped through the pages while holding it out of your reach. You squirmed in your seat while attempting to seize it from his grasp, rattling through viable excuses as fast as your brain would formulate any reason. 

"It's nothing--" you tried to push it off, George sending his brother a curious glance up from the worn sepia parchment as Fred sat taller in his chair, suddenly interested in the discussion at the announcement of new elements. 

"Nothing?" Fred scoffed, laying ahold of the book from George and tossing it through himself. "Of all things you could have passed your time reading?" Fred pondered in an accusatory tone, George's eyes searching your own for an explanation you didn't have. You leaned over the table and managed to swipe the book by it's spine and tuck it back into your tote on the floor, burying it between two larger books so that it became even more hidden. You kicked your bag to the opposite side of your chair so that it was away from George's reach. 

"Wait, we wanted to see--" Fred argued, brows knitted together in disappointment after losing his grip on the book for just a second long enough for you to steal it back. You began to chew on your bottom lip, anxiously sprinting through all possible warrants for having a book of that measure in your possession.

"It's nothing," you failed to brush it off, both of the twins groaning at your attempt to dismiss the rather significant exposure. You did admit it was probably against your best interest to have a book like it, but you were still trying to get to the bottom of your discussion with Mr. Malfoy back in Diagon Alley. George nudged your shifty shoulder, shaking his head.

"I would like to call your bluff with how defensive you're getting," George observed, continuing to pry for the explanation you weren't sure you wanted to give but found yourself wanting to get off your chest. "Go on, what are you doing with a Slytherin House history book?"

"Yeah, considering jumping houses?" Fred asked, concern strung in confliction in his tone. He was offset by his brother finding that book, trust thinning while his mouth rattled off stupid guesses. "Or are you actually after snooty Snape's job?"

"None of the above," you shot right back. You tried to warn Fred with your eyes, but he was already lost on the entirely opposite spectrum. 

"Then?" Fred barked, his eyes narrowing across your own. "Have you always been a Slytherin spy--"

"Keep your voice down," you shushed him, tossing the quill at his head to get him to stop rambling so loudly. Fred was used to getting carried away, but this was concerned with excitement and he figured deceptive without proper logic was appropriate. 

"Rubbish," Fred continued, the quill bouncing off his forehead and landing on the table. He did adjust his tone slightly closer to a whisper, "you're fortunate it was just us that found you carrying that thing."

"Yeah, what would the others say seeing you with the accounts of Slytherin?" George added after you paused to ponder on your own. You hadn't really paused to think of anyone's thoughts, after checking out the book with Miss Pince, who really didn't care who you were or what house you belonged to as long as the book was returned in perfect condition. You'd remembered the one time she yelled at you for a snag in one of the books that had been there before she'd given it to you. Yet, you understood how passionate one person could be about a book, you were the same way when it came to your prized collection of childhood fairytales, still needing to add the final Peter Pan book to that collection once you returned home. 

"I can tell you," Fred answered, a judgmental jab not hesitant to leave his tongue while tearing you out of your thoughts. "They would think that you yourself were one of those rotten, slimy sn--" 

You were growing less patient with the talkative twin that had no care who was listening. "Enough, alright? Both of you," you declared, looking from Fred to George with a now serious frown. Sure, most of the parley had become because of Fred’s blabbering, but George had swiped the book in the first place. "I needed to do some research,” you admitted vaguely. 

"On what?" Fred was not impressed by your answer and continued himself. "The only thing that book would be good for is hunting Death Eaters-- Which now that I say it, it does sound exceptionally practical." You gave Fred credit for being easily distracted, his eyes lightening up at the thought he’d now placed in his own mind. 

"Fred, no one is Death Eater Hunting," George groaned, getting annoyed with his brother as well. He turned to you, sincerity replacing the jokes and judgement he’d initially acclaimed from the situation. "Has this got something to do with Malfoy?" Your stomach twisted at the mention, realizing George had been there that day. While Fred was arguing with you, he’d been trying to mentally riddle it out himself and had gotten close. 

"What? Draco?" Fred almost choked, eyes about ready to pop out of his sockets. You and George shook your head simultaneously but neither of you broke the gaze. He was investigating your eyes for clues, your nerves rooting themselves to the calm and hopeful admission George wore so calmly. It helped the inclusion of Draco’s name not dig into your core as much as it should have, your hands tightening around yourself while disliking the feeling of being vulnerable. 

"No, Malfoy Senior," George answered, his hand planting itself down onto your arm for reassuring support. You felt the warmth from his kind gesture through your sleeve, strict tension slowly relieving itself. "What had he said to you? That day at Diagon Alley?"

"You are both relentless. It was nothing, really," you cleared your throat in a response, sighing softly. "It was most likely just Mr. Malfoy being strange, but he had mentioned something about my father's reputation at Hogwarts, and I have not been able to let go of his commentary,” you admitted truthfully. 

While Elle and Cedric took their space and withdrew from joining you in the library after classes, you’d taken the new found time to focus back onto what Lucius Malfoy had said that day about your father. You tried to do it in secret.

"And what does that have to do with Slytherin's former famous scholars?" George asked, trench torn in his brows. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, debating whether or not to continue with your head bowed. George gave your arm a gentle squeeze and that was all you needed, comfort soothing your fears. 

"He..." you trailed off, trying to find the right words to explain it just enough. "He claimed my father made his name by exceeding his time in Slytherin,” you disclosed, dragging your fingers stressfully through your hair and twirling one of the end strands. Nervous habit picked up from your mother, who did the exact same thing all the time. 

"You? Your father?" George questioned, skeptic doubt in his tone with a perplexed glimpse towards Fred, who turned his head in mirroring cynicism. "Well, is he?"

You dragged out a long breath, weak shrug of your shoulders, "I don't know.” 

They exchanged another faulty glance, confusion bursting even clearer on their baffled features. Fred gritted his teeth in irritation from the lack of answers. "You don't know what house your father was in--"

"No," you confessed transparently, letting the words topple out in a candored gospel. "I always assumed it was Hufflepuff, but he doesn't talk about Hogwarts. It's my mum that is really fond of recalling stories about her time here and in Hufflepuff. My father refrains from most discussion unless it is related to my own studies," you spaced out while recalling your parents, easily noticeable that you missed them both. More so with everything going on and being worried constantly. 

"I don't believe it. Not for a second," George stated, trying to sort through alternatives. "He must of had you confused--"

You interrupted unintentionally with your own thoughts, "I had figured the same, but it's more than that. He knew my father by our name.” An awfully ominous shiver crept down your spine remembering how uneasy you’d felt being face-to-face to Lucius Malfoy.

"And what have you found?" George motioned back to your bag, removing his hand from your arm with a sly smirk from Fred, who caught the charming gesture. 

"Bupkis," you responded, once again completely honest. "Not a single thing or scrap of testament that indicates anyone by our name was ever sorted into Slytherin. The Vestige was my last resort, I've been through everything that recounts all student attendants in Slytherin, both in his grade and around the year--but absolutely zilch."

"Is that not a good thing?" George countered, uncertain but convinced. Fred agreed, a bob in his head from across the table while finishing his brother’s thought.

"Exactly," Fred confirmed. "What would the problem be if Slytherin has no record of him? It means that Malfoy was wrong."

"It just doesn't make sense that he--" you struggled to get your perspective out but George laid his hand down upon your shoulder this time. 

"Hey,” George stopped you with a kind grin. "I reckon you're thinking too much about it. Malfoy Senior is just like baby Malfoy, they just want to get under your skin." If only he knew how annoyingly familiar you were with that. It vexed you that he still could, even when you hadn’t spoken for days. Yet, everytime you’d seen him flashing off Charlotte on his arm it felt like he was truly trying to stuff her down your throat. He was doing great without you and he wanted you to know. You’d actually been surprised the library was the one place of yours he hadn’t ruined by flaunting his newest babe about. 

"Precisely, it seems like he was solely causing you trouble for his own enjoyment. He wasn't serious," Fred concluded, victoriously proud of himself while reclining into the comfort of his chair. He was bored now that his worry had worn off, he got a little worked up when it came to Slytherin. You rolled your eyes at his reaction, his attention drifting off to where Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor had just strolled past and sent him a rather flirtatiously polite smile. You watched the way he reddened like a tomato, exactly the same way George did. 

"I'll resolve this conflict for you. Free of charge, just for you, darling," George moved to toss his head upon your shoulder and ignite a fuschia fire in your cheeks. "You speak to your father and get closure. Voila, problem solved and time no longer wasted worrying about Malfoy," George cheered excitedly. You relaxed, pushing the unsettling thoughts of Mr. Malfoy out of your mind and breathing tranquility back into your limbs. George drew his head up tall and traded a sly stare with his brother which caused a concerned alarm to blare in your mind again. “Anyways--”

“Hold that foolish thought,” you held up a finger to shush him, interrupting the cunning stare with hidden smirks shared between the mirroring frames. “Should I be worried for myself?

“Not at all--” George declared as unconvincingly as humanly possible. Fred couldn’t help but interrupt through a humorous cough.

“Well, it may be a bit wise--” Fred laughed, honestly. George slapped his hand on the table in front of Fred to silence him, nearly letting his brother blow his genius idea. Fred threw his hands up immediately. 

“Fred!” George exclaimed his brother’s name, Fred replying by simply tossing his head down onto the top of the table with a defeated groan. George continued, “please ignore my dear brother. We’re not up to a thing.” You didn’t buy it, not even a little. 

“Hang on,” you interrupted again, pausing his attempt at explanation. “Before either of you get ahead of yourselves, must I remind you that you are both on thin ice as it is. You really shouldn't even be plotting more schemes with Professor Snape threatening expul--” it was George’s turn to cut you off, intruding on your attempt to get them to see logic while setting his palm down atop your head to silence you.

“Whoa, darling,” George dismissed, a hoarse huff to his words. “We are not scared of ol’ Snape,” he patted his fingers in a soft drum upon your skull. You turned to your side to face him, copying his actions to drop your own palm against George’s long, squash strands.

“You should be when he--” you tried again, but Fred chimed in from where his head still pressed into the surface of the table. 

“Yet, we are not,” Fred sang in a cocky tune, George’s hand guiding your head into a soft nod to agree with his brother's wisdom. 

“Speaking of Snape,” George hummed, a sly secession emerging from his throat. You pulled his hand from your head and let it fall back to his side, narrowing your eyes as you were able to connect the dots. 

“Oh no,” you whined in realization, snapping your fingers over Fred’s head to get him to face you. His guilty glance confirmed it, but you still continued, “please tell me your diabolical ploy is not aimed at the one Professor seriously considering throwing you both out on your a--” 

You didn’t even know the librarian had snuck up on all of you until she was passing by the moment the curse attempted to fall from your lips. “Language,” Miss Pince warned, interjecting a strict digit to the entire table. Though the warning was directed towards you, she glared harshly to where the boys sat. You bowed your head in your seat, shoulders falling at the smallest word of caution from the librarian, who had really only snuck over to keep a watchful eye on the witty wonders. 

“Yes, Miss Pince. My apologies,” you pardoned just as she left, shifting in your seat closer to George to whisper silently amongst the table. “Professor Snape?” you asked again, crinkle in your brow challenging them both to be honest. They failed to meet your gaze, Fred staring solely at his brother while George bore his attention to the quill that danced over his knuckles at his command. 

“No, of course not,” they sang in a rehearsed chorus. You closed your eyes with a hopelessly annoyed groan, pressing your face into your hands with a louder huff of aggravation. 

“Your quick harmonization says otherwise,” you muttered, reaching out and plucking the quill from his grasp and holding it away as he attempted to argue. “Tell me,” you directed both of them, obviously not thinking clearly since George’s arms were twice the size of your own and he had no problem invading your space to retrieve the quill. His arms were around you, chin propped up just on your shoulder while wrestling the quill from your fingers. Your face heated up with him now directly pressed into your backside.

“Nonsense, what would we have against senile Snape?” Fred forged, kicking his legs up onto the rim of the table. You were bested, George managing to tear the quill free and return it to it’s safe space behind his ear, his hand still resting upon the back of your chair. Why was it the smallest things that made you so giddy?

“Why Professor Snape?” you questioned, eyes baring themselves narrowly into George for a real answer. Fred took this question before his brother could, George’s lips parting as if he was ready to answer but snapping closed with Fred coming to the rescue.

“Why not?” Fred shrugged, really not doing much to help answer the question. George nodded, as if it did hold true clarification. You nudged George because Fred was too far. 

“Not to mention the bonus that we don’t answer to him since neither of us are in Slytherin,” George pointed out, grinning over at you with that same goofy grin that managed to get you every damn time. You had to look away to hide the blush in your cheeks. 

“Is there any chance I could convince you against this dumb idea of yours?” you asked, question directed towards George. You tapped your nails against the polished wood of the tabletop.

“How do you know it was mine?” George called from your side, his offended reaction being sung with the sound of Fred’s laughter.

“It’s not like you have to engineer how dumb it is,” Fred agreed in a cackle. “You think I would come up with something so brainless? It’s no surprise you’re the mastermind, Georgie.”

“How insulting considering you’re the dull one,” George narrowed his eyes at his brother and pulled the edge of the table closer to you both so that Fred’s feet fell. You scooted closer to interrupt the stare that was hardening into a challenge between them.

“Now, now! You are both not the brightest, may we close it at that?” you mediated peace and tried to lead them back to logic. “Come on, at least for yourselves. Would you consider leaving Professor Snape out of your trickery for your own good?” 

“Possibly,” Fred hummed, returning to his lounging position. He folded his hands of mischief in his lap with an intriguingly smug grin upon his lips. 

“For a price, of course,” George added, his grin replaced with a bold smirk that reflected his brother’s simultaneously. They tried to be cryptic, but both of their manners just felt silly. It was always hard to take them seriously, especially when you knew they were up to something but refused to share their secret schemes. 

“And what would that be?” you asked curiously through a muted giggle, tucking your legs under you. George turned to you, the goofy grin occupying his brims conspiring with the amusement in his shimmering caramel orbs. It was wickedly wrong that it was this look of trickery that had the butterflies thriving wild in your gut, but it was just George. 

“A favor,” he requested, the corner of his lips dragging upward with a slight flash of sparkling white canines. You begged yourself to focus on anything but his looks, flush in your cheeks threatening to engulf your features. You rolled your eyes again, a bounce in your knees as they fluttered just under you. 

“A favour and being an accessory to your escapades are not the same,” you specified. George called his attention in brief exchange with his brother, both of them stumbling over how to argue and to your victory, they had not. Your satisfactory grin was about to grow in pride when George finally blurted out.

“They are identical!” he called, truly unsure himself. You leaned your elbow upon his shoulder, interjecting yourself between the boys again. 

“Wow just like you,” you chimed rather sarcastically. “We should really conclude the identicalities there.” George flopped his head down upon your elbow with a dramatically strident exhale.

“Just a tiny favor?” he pleaded, Fred jumping up to add in as well.

“A wee, itty-bitty good deed?” Fred whispered, fingers bringing themselves into a begging position at his chest. You were weak when it came to people begging for help, even if these were the wicked Weasley boys.

“Good deed?” you scoffed, their prevalence not having its desired effects so easily. You tore your gaze from Fred and back to George. “Any courtesy I would help with here would be blasph--”

“Brilliantly appreciated!” George finished for you, completely reversing your snide remark. You glared playfully, giggle escaping through your brims at his enthusiasm.

“For solely curiosity’s sake,” you pondered aloud, notably curious with what they could possibly want from you. “What would this act of kindness involve?” George’s enjoyment relishing even brighter on his appearance as he realized he was slowly succeeding on selling you to join their scheme.

“It would require a witty distraction of ours truly,” George snickered, hands stretching wide to motion over where you rested. Your brows knitted in confusion instantly.

“Me?” you could have sworn you heard him wrong, stunned disbelief staining your tongue. “You want me to stall Professor Snape?” you reiterated, bewildered and baffled at their proposal.

“My heavens, you are so unbelievably bright!” George praised you in a genuine joke, laying his head upon your shoulder once more. “Have I told you you’re a genius?” you were on fire with joyous embarrassment, his witty amorous dallying your tummy in triumphant turns. You would have allowed yourself to spiral into eager agreement with his inviting gestures, if not for Fred’s snide sneering. 

“Flawless,” Fred retorted in a sardonic stutter, shaking his head through a forced gag. “If you both could twiddle your flirting until after we pull this off, that would be bloody spectacular,” Fred implored, earning a discerning glare from both you and George. George was already planning on returning a revengeful notion later in Gryffindor while Fred was blowing it with posh Angelina. “We would just need you to keep him busy for a bit.”

“And why is that?” you questioned Fred, who ambled with his thumbs rather than address your query. George lunged at the opportunity to actually explain his plan. 

“Because you are the perfect person!” George exclaimed apparently, letting the remainder of his plotting conclusions spindle. “It is obvious he does not hate you as much as he hates the rest of us. You are actually sufferable to him, for reasons we are not sure of but will address at a later time. He is fond of you and you will simply use that fairly good front to occupy his time while we attend to personal matters in his store--” George’s lengthy spout had led him to reveal information Fred jumped into silencing him. 

“George!” Fred interrupted, stopping him from expunging even more private preparations. George sighed and fell back in his seat while your interest illuminated with the inclusion of a confessed goal with lack of motive.

“So, you are going for his potions. Why?” you were still struggling to decipher the entanglement of their riddles and vague misdirection. They were trying to get into Professor Snape’s stores of potions and ingredients, but what on Earth for? There were endless answers that could have been discovered from their acquiring of any items. Nonetheless, they were all forbidden and it would be stealing, landing them into more trouble and if found by Snape, possibly expelled. You were slowly discovering that they were delusional. 

“That is strictly secret information, y/n,” Fred warned, bringing his hand down to try and lower your volume. No one was paying any attention to you, but Fred’s paranoia drove him to stalk his glance around the room as if he would find someone’s focus on your table. 

“That is all you can know,” George agreed, a helpless shrug to his thin shoulders. You shook your head, kicking out your legs under you and hauling your tote from the floor, tossing it over your side.

“Really?” you scoffed in pure “Have you both gone mental? You loons really expect me to blindly distract Professor Snape while you steal from him and refuse to enlighten me on what it is you’re after? Do you know what kind of trouble we would all be facing? That’s absolutely absurd!” 

George and Fred merely bartered an entertainingly wicked glance between twain themselves.

“This is fucking stupid,” you cursed to yourself while flooding down the spiral staircase, books buried tightly to your chest. “Wretched Weasleys,” spat just under your breath as your feet carried you in gentle patters echoing through the narrow opening until you finally reached the bottom. You were still kicking yourself while hurrying through the dark corridor, dim torches and no windows burdening this lower level of all life. You paused right outside the door to your left and groaned, hesitantly observing the dark and dry with a swift glimpse through the hall. A sharp inhale held tight in your lungs while you tentatively rose your knuckles with intent to tap your knuckles against the door. 

“Enter,” was muffled sternly from inside before you could even complete the knock. You swallowed the doubt lodged in your throat and abided by the mandate echoed behind the timber staring at you, opening the door enough to peek in. 

Professor Snape resided across the room behind the grand lectern, the faintest flame luminescence residing off to the corner of his desk. His head barely drew itself up from the parchment before him at your entry, still delayed near the doorway while closing it silently behind you. You didn’t like interrupting him, an unbidden disruption disturbing his attentive reviewing of assignments felt invasively similar to plainly annoying him. 

“Miss l/n, what is it?” Snape asked from his desk, glancing just over the top of his files. You contemplated the excuse you had been putting together whilst on the way down compared to the truth of ‘just trying to distract you from some idiotic boys gaining access to your stores’, which would most likely raise dangerous dismay for you all. How had you let them talk you into this? If you tried to ignore the obvious, vulnerable soft spot you had for George, it was just because you really had nothing better to do than worry over Mr. Malfoy and tend to studies that you were already excelling at. It was a blandly stale life without the companionship of Elle and Cedric, you missed them both dearly. 

You cleared your throat and inched closer to his desk. “I had some concerns I wanted to address with you pertaining to the Potions project you assigned this week,” you lied through plain teeth. Snape placed the papers in his hand down calmly and then withdrew the top journal from the stack to his right, holding it up to your attention. 

“Would it be the assignment you submitted to me this morning?” he asked, a raised brow in your direction. Your knee wobbled with his dour acquisition seeing through your untruth at the same second you uttered it. You had honestly believed you thought it out, how in the hell do you simply forget you had already completed the project and handed it in? Merlin's beard, did you look like a complete fool. You stuttered, an uncomfortable exposure of the fabricated excuse you had planned to buy the boys time now crumbling at Snape’s subjection. “What is it that has truthfully brought you here this late afternoon? Do you not have studies that require attending to?”

His captious tone made it sound like you were truly bothering him, but his curiosity was searching for a real reason. “I do not, I have finished most of them early and find myself without chores or tasks until tomorrow,” you clarified honestly, tightening your tote to your side with an anxious squeeze of the strap. Now that you were here, in an odd strain, you felt credence in Snape enough to continue. “I wanted to ask you about something that happened a few nights ago.” Snape dropped the journal and folded his hands together atop his papers, sighing out a bothersome breath while inviting you to proceed with his attention. “I was in the corridor and my thoughts had wandered sauntedly and purely unintentionally to…” your voice trailed off, the confession hindered by your dire dismissal to speak Malfoy’s name. Snape nodded his head, able to draw his conclusions without need of specification. “I can’t explain it accurately, but it was like I was perceiving his perspective from his own eyes.”

“I’m sorry?” Snape baffled in uncertainty, convinced he’d heard you wrong. You sunk into a solemn stance, lips pursed together while trying to formulate an easier way at explaining your experience back to that night right before George had interrupted your lonesome in the corridor.

“It was like I could visualize what I believed he was seeing at that same time, but through his vantage view,” you responded, an abstract attempt still not resonating distinctly with Snape who dropped his gaze from you to stare blankly off to the side. It was like you had launched him deep into thought, puzzlement pausing his adhering of your impression and submerging him into a deeper investment. 

“As if you were there?” Snape tried to resolve, formulating logic into your comment. You pondered his clarification and proceeded to shake your head.

“Not exactly,” you replied, tapping your fingers still unsure yourself. “More like I was him. As if I was seeing it from his own eyes in my head. Identical to the way one imagines most, only I had no intention to think about his quarters in the way they were presented to me,” Snape stood from his seat and paced shortly off to the side near a dusty bookshelf. His silence was concerning, a hum of confusion thundering in his chest. You didn’t like the look of him, his reaction was just making you more nervous. “What is it, Professor?”

“I can’t be sure,” his statement made you even more queasy. Snape turned to greet your stare again, indecision identified on hard features. “And Mr. Malfoy, has he had the same encounter?” 

You shifted on your feet, distilled and awkward. “I do not know, we are not… friendly with one another at this time,” you disclosed in a softly professed avow. Snape weld a dry chuckle, an innate sound of humor supporting the notion of a failed joke you had not intended to make. It was the truth, you actually loathed him very much at this time. 

“I am most sympathetic to the reasons behind that notion,” Snape agreed, narrowing his eyes to flash about your person. “I ask that what we speak of shall be strictly undisclosed to others in the castle until it is properly determined, do you understand?” he requested in an offer that you strangely consented with, not a single need for further explanation into the severity of what it was he thought. You nodded your head once and he continued, “I have heard of lore that some believe in that yarn special abilities like what you have briefly expressed. It is most similar to those shared by witches and wizards tethered together through the bond of consorts.”

“Abilities? I don’t understand what you are saying, Professor,” you echoed honestly, unable to keep up with his explanation. You rarely ever had trouble keeping up with most things, especially those of magic which you commonly knew better than that of fact and logic. 

“Without Legilimens,” Snape sounded in a bizarre disbelief. He looked down at you like you were a peculiar snippet of myths and legends he’d recalled from his childhood. “I can’t be sure with so little confirmation. I ask that you try again,” Snape asked in a sincere request that only drove you more dumbfounded.

“What am I trying?” you begged for specification, lost dozens of steps behind where Snape was already calculating odds and weighing possibilities. 

“Connecting to him in your mind,” Snape explained in little clarification and even less instruction. You were drowning deeper into doubt with his expectation. 

“Connecting?” you repeated, shaking your head plainly while admitting, “the only time it happened was a complete accident, I wasn’t even sure what I was doing.” It was the truth, you were just uncontent and still upset with what had happened that you’d thought of him and in a moment of weakness, but focus, you unlocked something you had never meant to. 

“There is not much I can assist with as an outside member, but most of it will be focusing,” Snape turned to retrieve an object from one of his desk drawers, motioning you to one of the smaller desks across from his own. “I can help the exterior angle of focusing for you, but most of it will need to be your efforts. Begin with translating your sense to his own,” Snape placed a small metronome on the edge of his desk facing you. You were still queasy, slowly stalking over to where he directed you. You set your stuff down on the floor and moved to sit atop the desk, legs folded in your lap. “Trust me,” Snape warranted. You weren’t sure what it was that permitted you to agree without a second question, but the gaze in his certitude of conviction beckoned honor that you trusted. 

“Yes, sir,” you uttered in a discomfited nod. Snape flickered the needle of the metronome and the solace tapping began. You really tried to obey his instruction, settling yourself into a serene rhythm while narrowing your senses to the sole sound of the chimes from the metronome Snape had placed on the desk. You fluttered your eyelids closed and did the one thing you'd been dreading for weeks; you diffused all of your energy onto Draco. You relinquished all of your rationale control to that of your soul, not entirely positive what it was that Snape had puzzled you with. He asked you to trust him, and for some reason, you just agreed. You hadn't the slightest what 'translating' your senses to Malfoy meant, you’d done this all on absolute accident the first time all those nights ago. Your mind just began drifting to Draco when your stomach twisted and all the unease in the world took over you. “I don’t know what—“

Snape’s interjecting hand raised to silence the words on your lips immediately by stopping the ticking needle harshly, a cower emitting itself to your shoulders. “You may discover it may turn the trick if you indeed make an endeavor,” Snape stated, your blatant urge to just be done with all of this fueling the insufferable impatience. 

“I am trying—“ you tried to defend yourself, but Snape bought no part of your dim excuse. He cut you off again, turning his back with a few steps towards his desk. You hopped off the tabletop with every means to follow. 

“If you truly have no inclination to prosper, then why come to me?” Snape questioned, his back to you as if he was ready to dismiss your dallying of his time. He was curious, but he was not going to entertain mythical phantoms searching for something you wouldn’t aid in discovering about yourself. You sighed after him, an eager edge in your step while trying to approach. 

“I am seeking your assistance, Professor Snape, I’m sorry. I just—“ you started again, but stalled right back into silence by Snape. 

“I am familiar with what it is that happens to be preventing your concentration,” Snape answered for you, finally turning back to face you. “You must surrender your concerns if you are honest in wanting to discover the extent of your bond. If not, you are exhausting both of our time and you should dismiss yourself imminently.” Snape’s gaze was orderly, a sincerely serious glimpse down to you. You agreed, a bob of your head guiding you back to the desk, crossing your legs down under you as you sat. 

“I can do it,” you pronounced once again, forcing the strictly poised conviction from your lips. You reached forward and tapped your fingertip against the needle to begin the ticking sound again, straightening your shoulder with a deep inhale and holding it until your posture perfected in your seat. Snape didn’t walk after you until you settled firmly, returning to his own seat just across to observe. When you finally breathed out, you adjusted to the loss of control and possession of your senses, truly relinquishing the power you held of your own consciousness. You relaxed into a serene silence brought on by the sole sound of the metronome’s melody.

You began with your most difficult sense first: smell. You primarily recollected the smell of his conditioner from that night in the shower, utter austere alone on that of the strong scent absorbed through the steam of a boiling shower. It was stronger than peppermint, apples, rich cologne, or even the natural aroma you could remember from his pillows and sheets. His conditioner smelled better than just soapy suds, Blackwood roots and a husky mint suffocating you.

Then, you proceeded with sound to get the next complications out of the way. At first, you weren’t positive whether or not the focus should have been directed at a memory of him yelling at you, maybe one of his snide comments or brash bickering. You didn’t have many happy or even content conversations with Draco. Without having time to sort through the words he’d said, they were all suddenly echoing through your mind. You heard the good, the bad, the exciting, and the naughty all rendered through a messy, jumbled chorus of Draco’s voice chattering about your brain. The sound of the metronome had become so faint under the sound of Draco’s words in your head, ringing in your eardrums as if he was whispering right beside your head.

You couldn’t decide whether touch or taste would be your favorite until the chimes of his voice paired with the taste of his saliva. You remembered it perfectly, the feeling of his tongue as it swept across your lip and explored the wetness of your own mouth. You tasted him, not just his tongue. You swore to the heat between your thighs for the bittersweet flavor of him in your throat as if he’d just been in your mouth. You’d forgotten you were sitting before Snape, losing yourself to the overwhelming features of Draco that intoxicated your presence.

Touch was undoubtedly your secret pleasure in this moment. It had been weeks since you’d been touched or kissed by him, but the feeling that embellished on your skin was purely gentle rather than seductive or cruel. He wasn’t feeling your body in all of the right ways to induce you into a pleasure greater than any you’d ever felt, nor was his hand locked tightly on your throat depriving you of air. It was a tender caress across your cheek, and then through your fingers. You felt his hand as if he was sitting right beside you on the surface of the desk, like his fingers intertwined with your own and his thumb was stroking over the length of your palm. You’d remembered this. It was right after you’d both been met by a heavenly satisfactory release unlike any rapture and you’d just laid there with your hand resting under his own. You’d fallen asleep just a few minutes after, but his simple touch awakened a warmth that swarmed through your veins, engulfing you into the final sense.

The strangest seemed to be sight. You had memorized the details of his face in all different angles, the curves and orifices alike from his vain smirk and disappointed frown to the genuine grin you’d been privileged to witness only among him in solitude. You were familiar with all of the emotions his face had ever revealed in that pale complexion of his, the good and bad just the same. With the sudden, exceptionally potent pressure that all of your senses anchored onto through Draco, you were flustered and slowly becoming more and more repressed in the depths of your existence. As if your soul was growing more and more anxious under the weight of the compulsory constraint, you tried to force your acquirement of the sight sense faster.

You didn’t think it had worked when the darkness of your eyelids began to blur with faint illustrations unfolding in puzzle pieces behind your eyes. The empty blackness was replaced with clouded flurries revealing more gradients of a setting you’d just experienced only a time ago. It was moving, as if you were just walking rather quickly through a dim-light hall with furious intent. You figured it was a faulty demonstration of a memory until it clicked.

Your eyes popped open in horror and you jumped off the desk, sudden movements even surprising Snape who’d just been observing your attentiveness. “Oh no,” you uttered, flooding onto trembling feet unsteady beneath you. Snape’s eyes narrowed in curiosity, confused furrowed following your frantic steps across the room to retrieve your tote. You recognized what he was seeing.

“What is it?” Snape asked, worrisome wrenched in his throat while his gaze followed your chaotic and fumbling attempts at parting immediately. 

“I-I just remembered I have to—“ the door slammed open, ricocheting on its hinges as he whipped it wide. You froze, a stone statue splitting through your limbs as color drained from your complexion. Your eyes dropped from Snape and spaced out, agape off towards the floor while anxiety flourished beneath your skin. 

“Going somewhere?” his query interrupted, a grim humor strict in his tone while his voice echoed from the doorway behind you.

“Fuck,” you breathed under a damned exhale. Your eyes fluttered shut with vexation, Snape realizing what you had seen the moment the door whirled recklessly ajar. He didn’t scowl your curse, a part of him understanding your defeated annoyance.

“Mr. Malfoy, what do I owe the intrusion?” Snape scorned, looking past you to where Draco began cockily strolling closer. You were sure he meant the burden of Draco’s presence, all of your nerves already flustered in alarm after being orchestrated into sensual delirium. And now he was actually here.

“Forgive me,” he retorted purely sarcastically, now just a few steps from your backside while you remained in your refusal to grant him a single glance. “I was not aware you had company. Then again, I do not really give a damn since she happens to be the purpose of my visit as well.”

“I beg your pardon,” you scoffed, spinning around to narrow your eyes at his egotistical repulsion. You regretted it, Draco’s stare into your backside was less worse than actually meeting his gaze. As always, he looked neat and composed, not a hair out of place. You were thankful it was Snape who stepped in front of you to interfere with the stare, spinning around to grasp the edge of his desk and halt the metronome once Snape was in front of you. 

“What do you supposedly mean by that, Malfoy?” Snape scrutinized, Draco’s smirk replaced into the lines of a frown. 

“I’m nearly positive I’m here with the same reason as she,” Draco sneered from behind you, causing you to turn slightly just out of intrigue. Had Draco done it too? Draco’s glare dropped from Snape towards you, accusingly. “What have you said?” Draco barked, a step forward that was met by denial from Snape but loathing from you, his challenge beckoning you forward. 

“That is none of your bloody concern, you arrogant--” your insult was cut before it could grow louder, Snape reaffirming his presence with a throaty cough.

“Language, Miss l/n,” Snape warned, eyeing you. You nodded, a step back to regain your composure and take a breath. Your anger was always on the thinnest string when it came to Draco, you were able to lose hold of that string almost every time he opened his mouth. He just made you so mad constantly. 

“You made it my concern the second you found your filthy way into my head. Serverus, she's got me under a Legilimency spell, I recommend expulsion and I know that my father--” Draco spat, harshly. He knew, how did he know? Your stomach was circling in nausea that leaned your body into the support of Snape’s desk. You were granted a moment of interruption by Snape, but your nerves twisted with the anger. 

“Mr. Malfoy--" Snape was surely about to discipline him for using his first name quite disrespectfully. Draco always had such a nerve that provoked you, and the anger residing just below your surface. You didn’t mean to cut off Snape, but you were losing your temperament. 

"No surprise. Go on, run to daddy! I did no such thing, it was an accident not Legilimency. I didn’t do it on purpose!” you called right back, glaring daggers straight around Snape to where Draco’s eyes averted to yours. You could tell you affected him for a moment, the mention of his father from your lips always having the power to interrupt his attempt to remain cool. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” Draco snickered, rolling his eyes sarcastically. He didn’t believe you, and for some reason, you continued. 

“It’s true,” you tried to admit again, distaste sour on your tongue. “It was a mistake. One of many,” you confessed. Draco’s smirk snaked control of his lips, pursing into the careless cruelty.

“Ouch, I’m so hurt by your rude ridicules,” Draco humored himself only. “I couldn’t care less, you twisted my arm and forced this to be my problem. I refuse to let you blame me!” 

“And you came here for what? Retaliation?” you chuckled rudely right back, shifting on your feet with an uplifted brow. You were daring him to admit, to show any sign that agreed that was his true intention of being there. Was he upset, or was he jealous?

“I wouldn’t dare waste my time picking through your wretched mind, love,” Draco stepped in towards you and you held your stance just beside Snape. Other than the loathsome and infuriated antipathy, his eyes full of excitement as if this small exchange of arguing was actually expressing some kind of sick delight. It was your first encounter in weeks. 

"You’re so blimey thick, Draco--” you fell short of crude remarks, secretly thanking Snape for cutting in when he did. 

“Enough! Both of your bickering is quite irritating. The pair of you are here for answers whether you admit it to yourselves or not. I am the one who will not concern myself with any of your dramatics, if you only wish to quarrel with one another, you may find another location for your dispute,” Snape was annoyed, stern threat of removing his assistance all together causing your anger to soften. “However, if you desire real explanations of what you are enduring, you will abandon the theatrics at once,” you didn’t look at Draco, but he’d gone silent as well. It was like you could feel the smirk that had ascended into nothing. He was listening. 

“Yes, sir,” you agreed for the both of you. Draco shifted, obviously not content with having someone like you speak for him, yet remaining silent because he had truly gathered your accordance was best. He would never dare to acknowledge you were properly precise when declaring your compliance for him and yourself. 

“What did you experience just now, y/n?” Professor Snape questioned, a curious tilt of his head calling your attention up from your slippers. Draco was just a few feet away, but you felt a burning gaze burning into your side while facing Snape. He was intensely studying you while you pondered remotely, see-sawing feebly on the balance of your feet. What would you call it that would not make you appear mad? The list was narrow.

You blocked out Draco and forced an answer from your throat. “I saw him just in the hallway,” you confessed aloud, not a speck of understanding in your own admittance. They let a moment pass and you responded by simply continuing, “it was like I was seeing it from his eyes… As if I was walking through the corridor myself--I know it sounds delusional—“

“Not far fetched,” Draco spat, snickering under a fit of bitter laughter that made your head ache and annoyance incline drastically. You didn’t grant him the recognition or impairment he was gunning for with the crude comment, taking no notice of his disdaining presence. 

“And you, Draco?” Professor Snape sighed, detestation equivalenting to the nuisance of Draco’s stubborn personality. You were surprised he was actually sticking around to hear Snape out, alike to you in your want to understand-- howbeit that exact persistent, dogged lifestyle would refute any obvious truth. Draco groaned, throwing his hands down on the desk in a startling slap against the surface, the tight clench of your own fists keeping you from jumping. 

“I don’t know,” Draco breathed, indifference negligent to the facts. You spared him a glance, catching his eyes from a matter of steps away. You didn’t mean it to be a sincere imploration to honestly rector the admission until he gritted his teeth and continued, “I felt her intruding. I don’t know how to explain it? I heard her voice in my quarters when I was positively unaccompanied... But right before that... It was as if I could feel her aura about my person.” You swore mentally whilst listening to his stressed testimony, your own nerves betraying the shiver in your spine and burning blossom of butterflies in your gut. Why? He was still being cruel, efforts of grim disgust audible in his tone. Yet, you were fighting the tingle in your veins relentlessly. He could feel you. You wondered in the confinement of your head what he felt when you were there, what sensations of excitement resonated with him like they did you. Why did that matter? He was still Draco, the same dastardly coward who could hurt you over and over again. 

You sprung out of your mind and swallowed the indecision. “I only did it that once on accident,” you uttered, yanking your focus back to Snape. “I really didn’t even know what was happening,”

Snape replied with a doubtful frown, “you need be honest if we are to accurately address this matter.” Were you really that easy to read? You staggered upon the balls of your feet with a toss of your head, shrug emitting from dainty shoulders. 

“Fine. I may have been thinking about him a bit. That is all,” you caved, taking another step back to disappear from Draco’s perception behind Snape’s shoulder. Draco’s features were enlightened and he pulled proud shoulders taller with a cocky little snicker, eyes gleaming with snug concealment. Cocksucker. You gasped at your own teasing, never daring to actually admit such profanity aloud of your own words.

“I’m flattered,” he chimed sarcastically, stepping aside to follow your motions backwards and attempt to hide. Your eyes narrowed under his arrogant, pompous stare. 

“Piss off,” you remarked in reply, halted by an elevated hand from Professor Snape. You dropped your head, embarrassed you’d still reserved any space in your head to dwell on Draco. 

“Are you finished?” Snape inquired, growing less patient with the recurring theme of bandy words. “It is not as abnormal as you may believe. However... it is rare among those of your youth,” Snape explained, conserved in contemplation over how much he could reveal without sparking any sense of alarm. 

“What is it?” Draco prodded him to continue, his confined description still harboring missing elements. Snape took a number of steps away from both of you, once again pacing with his back towards you near his shelves. 

“It was fate that bound you together, whether you adhere compliance to the bond or not. It begins fragile but permanent, yet has potential to augment with more power and grand, spirited resilience the more you allow it,” Snape placed his hand upon a book stacked between the shelves, sighing to himself through a secretive abhorrence to the meaning crystal clear to both you and Draco. ‘Allow it’ had the same definition as giving into it, succumbing to Draco, essentially. Something you’d pitifully done on more than one occasion. “Some have been known to share abilities with one another, like a kindred parallel in a Patronus. And on even more sparse occasions, a mind tether.” You and Draco both arose in tensed cynicism, mirroring frames positioned apart from one another. 

“A mind tether?” you repeated, Draco’s voice reflecting in your own as the confounded repetition was uttered in unison. Draco glanced out of the corner of his eye, but you willed your own gaze forward. Looking at him brought your stomach enough nausea, but meeting his eyes was an entirely altered set of unease.

“Yes,” Snape spun back around with his arms crossed over his chest, the fabric of his coat tucked around him. “With due focus and attentive endeavors, you may be able to access this gift to an extent beyond eavesdropping on the other.” 

“Like what?” you posed, the possibilities rattling through your mind only enabling more discontent. The thought of Draco in your head was enough to have you running for the hills, but for reasons beyond your comprehension, you stayed put. Curiosity would certainly be the cause of your crucifixion if Draco Malfoy could access your bond. You could have left that second and abandoned efforts to conclude the details of your encounters, but like a bloody fool, you remained with Snape and Draco. Snape was still considering it, the honest answer much too complex for any feasible fallacy.

“I’m not sure,” Professor Snape answered, attention shifting back to the boy who looked bothered by his own boredom. “Draco, what have you ventured on your own?”

Draco picked his gaze from his hands, tilting his head towards his advisor. “Ventured what exactly?” Draco reiterated, eyes brightening once he registered what Snape was truly inquiring about. “Thinking about her? Ha, I wouldn’t so burden myself.” Why did it still hurt? You had admitted to yourself that this part of his personality was getting easier, but every sarcastic snicker still slashed beneath your skin. 

“You’re awful,” you retorted, hand drawn in a furious fret through your locks. Draco smirked over at you, propping himself up on the edge of the table just a foot away. You felt his gaze bounce down to your slippers and back up to your eyes, still framed absent to his angle. 

“Thank you, love,” he let the syllable slip from his lips with such charming allure, you physically gagged in his direction. Obviously, it was purely dramatic but granting yourself the privilege to watch that smirk slap itself from his lips and replace itself with a vexed frown granted you so much pleasure.

“That was not the question,” Snape attempted to redirect the tension back to the debacle, snapping Draco’s ill-temper back to himself. “Have you tried to access that part of your connection?”

“The part that I didn’t know existed and still honestly don’t care about? No, I haven’t,” Draco answered quickly, temper competing with his impatience to see which gave first. If you had to wager, it would be the temper. And if you were so lucky, you could give him the final push. 

“It would be wise if you did,” Snape nodded, a few steps towards the pair of you. 

“Why on earth would I want that?” Draco’s responses were becoming more rapidly raged from his throat. You sunk deeper into your own skin, feelings alternating from severe to sensitive regarding his temperament. You didn’t tolerate most of him, but this side was your least endurable. 

“To understand the magnitude of your bond,” Snape answered, Draco’s jaw becoming hardly clenched. He almost dared to interrupt the man.

“I don’t give a bloody damn!” Draco retorted in a riled exclaim, slamming his fist down brutally onto the table. You jumped in your skin and closed your eyes, the inhale suffocated silently in your chest. “I want the solitude of my mind back,” Draco examined your taut reaction and his digits released in the moderation of his voice. He stopped himself from lashing out.

“You’re not curious?” you asked him, eyes still sore to your slippers. Draco shook his head plainly.

“No, I’m not,” he replied. Draco then studied the firm features of your composure, every little detail that had him snorting in skeptical sneering. “No, tell me you’re not buying into this crap!”

“I am,” you finally answered his stare, gaze joining his own. You had many questions, but without a solid clarification that seemed to only be possible from Snape, who you both trusted, it was helpless. “I believe it and I want to know. You didn’t feel what I did, it was… strong and peculiar,” you continued. You were not exact in your own recollection, but it was enough for Draco to ponder taps upon the top of the desk he resided against. You held your breath until he cursed.

“Fine,” he groaned aloud. You resisted the proud smile that tried to find its way to your lips, daggers in Draco’s glare prying into you. “Don’t be mistaken, it is only to get you both to shut up about it. How?” 

“It was not very difficult, it’s mainly—“ you started, hushed almost the moment you tried to help. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Draco spat. You fled backwards at the loathsome revulsion detectable in his scorn. 

Snape’s brows raised and he motioned Draco’s attention back towards you. “Unfortunate since she is the only one that has the knowledge of how it’s done.” Draco groaned loudly, daggers of disgust returning to burn into your frame. He was trying to belittle you again, and you were letting him because you wanted him to try. You hated it. Even when it wasn’t about physical urges, you were still having your arm insufferably twisted to abide by his expectations. 

“Alright then, empress of the mind, how’s it done? What’s your ghastly secret?” Draco questioned. You settled back into your skin, smile teasing upon your brims.

“You’d think that with all those riches and privilege you believed you’re so entitled to just by your ghastly name, you’d learn some proper manners,” you muttered just under your breath, ensuring you were loud enough for his ears. “Especially when asking others for help. Others who owe you nothing,” you were referring to both you and Snape. Draco’s humor fled from his pale complexion. 

“You’re a brat,” Draco stated. You clicked your tongue against the side of your teeth. 

“I was just about to call you the same,” you marveled, tauntingly. Draco was about to retort your snarky remarks when Snape interjected.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he warned before he could utter any further insult. Draco tore his attention from you and curled his fists upon the edge of the table. 

“She started—“ he began to accuse, an angry huff of defeat at Snape’s glare. He harshly tapped his knuckles repeatedly on the wood and continued his demand, “help me.” It wasn’t a request, but his voice was definitely softer than a dictated order. You didn’t want to help him, after everything that had occurred between you, you wanted to laugh in his face and walk away.

“I doubt he can even do it, Professor Snape. His mind is too narrow to actually focus on something besides himself for a prolonged amount of time,” you professed to Snape, a step towards your Professor to allow you space from Malfoy. Snape was able to look past your failed attempt to persuade against, the stressfully abundant lack of diligence revealed through the sad gaze. 

“Once,” Snape offered through brokering only eligible as a negotiation. You took a deep inhale and nodded in compliance. 

“Yes, sir,” you compromised. “You need to relax and focus. I’m not sure what will work for you, but for me, it was mainly conserving all my energy onto… this,” you illustrated a hesitant digit between you and Draco. 

“Seems simple enough,” he shrugged, still so carelessly ignorant to the importance of his concentration. “Foolproof even.”

“I wouldn’t be too cheeky,” you uttered while passing him, returning to your position atop the desk behind him. You pulled your dainty frame into a poised and graceful seat on the surface, legs folded in your lap while your wrists rested comfortably on your knees. “You have the attention span of a bloody ferret.” Draco watched your movements and simply hoped himself up onto the desk right across from you. He was ready to bicker when Snape appeared at the metronome. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, his question directed at Draco, who seemed just as uninvolved as ever. Draco shrugged, still remissive. You let your eyes flutter closed while drawing the attention of your senses to the rhythm of the ticking that returned. Draco stopped kicking his feet and actually appeared to be beginning to focus, eyes still charting the features of your face under a soft stare. You said relax, and this was the only way he knew. 

“Stop staring at me,” you declared suddenly, no longer able to focus yourself under his intense observation. “It’s never going to work if you refuse to try, Malfoy.” You didn’t even realize you were using Snape’s words, the same sentiment he’d expressed just a few moments earlier when you truthfully didn’t want to think about Malfoy. 

“I was not staring,” Draco lied, immediately defensive after your honest accusation. “This isn’t going to work because you keep running that pretty little mouth of yours at every bloody--”

“Draco, do as she says,” Snape instructed through an interruption that overpowered his volume. “Miss l/n, you need to render your mind defenseless, abandon the tension and as uncomfortable as it is, exhibit yourself as entirely vulnerable.” You nodded at his direction, allowing your eyes to remain open while Draco forced his own tightly closed. You hated it, relaxing every tense muscle in your body so that you could appear ‘vulnerable’ to Draco Malfoy, you’d preferred any other punishment. Then again, you were always vulnerable to Draco because he knew you in ways that not even your bestfriends did, he knew every inch of your body and understood a mental aspect of your sanity. It was silent, Draco’s eyelids eventually relaxing into the tempo of the needle from the metronome, tension resolving into soft submissions across his appearance. 

You didn’t feel anything. You waited patiently, able to find solace comfort in the silent and somewhat peaceful presence. Then, the entire atmosphere shifted and you felt energy pulsing through your mind, relief and serene sparks spreading through your nerves until all you felt internally was Draco. You didn’t know how to explain it, unsure if it was the power that came with magic or the pleasure that came with Draco, but it was absolutely everywhere. Your breath caught, hands quickly gripping onto the table to stabilize yourself. Then it was over, announced with a loud gasp as Draco’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Draco coughed, flying off the table with a few troubled paces away. You slowly rose, Snape taking a step towards the boy who pressed a hand to his head.

“I saw myself,” he admitted after a moment, his breathing in pants. Your mind was empty again, not a tingle lingering in the back of your mind the second he was ripped back into his own consciousness. “I can understand your inability to resist me, I knew I was quite handsome but damn am I gorgeous,” it only took him another split-second to compose himself enough to let the cruel humor return. You rolled your eyes and Snape stopped the metronome.

“Alas, it proceeds to coherently operate in a parallel schematic that both of you can access,” Snape found himself ranting through the connections formulating in his head, the revelation a great success in his mind that just began the comprehensive introduction of your tether.

“Great,” Draco sighed, unimpressed. “Whatever that means, are we done here?” You were just as eager to go, praying the boys had long finished whatever devious deed they were up to.

“That confirms the balance of accessibility,” Snape explicated, a shake to his head. “The next aspect would be extent. You would need to propel the bond into further advantage to control a considerable amount of its power.” 

“What are you implying?” you asked, the answer resonating with you internally as you refused to allow it to strike so clearly. You only questioned it because you wanted it to be something different. Draco snickered from your side. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s suggesting a real connection,” Draco confirmed your worry. You didn’t acknowledge him, keeping your questions directed towards Snape. 

“Like holding his hand? That’s ridiculous,” you laughed through the doubt, almost ready to grab your stuff and take your leave. You felt the lines of Draco’s lips spin into a sneering smirk. 

“I mean, we could snog but something tells me that would be entirely too distracting,” Draco remarked, not missing a beat with his offer that sent blood to your cheeks. Snape dismissed his rather inappropriate remark before you could spiral into a full flush. 

“Enough, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape warned him again, Draco throwing his hands up in forged innocence. “Can you do this?” he asked you, a sincere question that he allowed you to ponder honestly. Could you? Every time you touched that bastard, it was a new awakening of desire that was direly impossible to control. 

“I can,” you answered, not convinced in the slightest yourself but surprising both Snape and Draco. You traced your steps backwards and reappointed yourself in a neat, elegant settle onto the table top. 

“We’ll see,” Draco hummed, following your steps and sitting just beside you on the table. He dropped his hand onto the surface between you, only a foot separating your two frames but enough to have the waves of his presence crashing onto your shore. You hesitated, a glance down to his all but inviting hand matched with a sorrowful sigh as you slid your palm into his own. 

It was irrationally impossible to ignore the warmth that ignited the moment your skin met with his own. You’d felt like you’d been deprived of touch for decades and this was all that you needed to feel again. A lump formed in your throat and you begged to choke it down, not wanting to reveal any effect his touch had on you, just as yours had on his own. You were now holding his hand--Draco’s hand. Your heart seemed to forget tranquil beats and voyage on it’s own rocky course, completely disobedient to your attempts at control. You needed a moment to compose and get a grip on yourself, but you weren’t about to ask for it. It expressed itself like centuries of fighting for control of your own body, and when it did return to your hands, it was still his. You were already behind trying to focus your attention and energy on him, but the preservation of your mind had already been surrendered to allow Draco entry earlier. He was already in, yielding himself to the enchantment besieged at your touch, rather than fighting it. 

When more time passed solely attending to the melody of the metronome, your thoughts became more linear and you were able to adapt. You were becoming more impatient with no outcome. ‘Halfwit bastard is probably not even trying’, you remarked mentally. Without a second to settle in your own snarky tune, your silence was brutally interrupted. ‘It appears you’re the one failing to try, little puff’ you launched yourself off the table and almost fell face-first onto the floor. You heard his voice. But not out loud, it was resounding in gentle echoes through your mind and it terrified you. Snape jumped forward, arms outstretched to assist your fumbling. Draco smirked, watching the scene unfold in your own humiliation. 

“Are you--” Snape started, but you silenced him with a loud exclaim, panic resonating in your voice. 

“No!” you declared. “He’s in my head, I heard him in my head!” It was insane. This whole occurrence was insane. Snape’s eyes widened through a toss from you and Draco, enlightened to the gathering of new data. 

“Thought transference?” Snape questioned Draco while you hyperventilated. Your only source of support was the fierce grip on the table. You could hear your heartbeat in your eardrums and your stomach was like a knotted shoelace driving you even further to illness. 

“That would be the one,” Draco remarked cockily from his seat. He didn’t move, not even slightly distressed about his newest leverage. “I’ll give you credit, very neat trick indeed. Mind reading, how intriguing,” Draco taunted, enjoying himself a little too much when it came to your unraveling.

“How is that possible? Telepathy is a myth, clairvoyance is a ruse, it can’t be real,” your words were jumbling together, trembling from your lips. You were more than alarmed, bringing up your head to search Snape for answers. 

‘How else would you explain this, love?’ Draco’s voice rang again, but it still was not in the open. You turned to face him, eyes narrowing. 

“Stop that,” you warned, a shaky finger raising to separate the two of you. “I’m going to be sick.”

‘Maybe you’re going mad,’ Draco snickered, his chuckle disgusting every brain cell bleeding at the inclusion of a new voice in your head. You could hear him. In your head. He was right, you were a loon. 

“Calm down, y/n,” Snape hushed your sudden outburst, still lost on the chain of events himself. “You’re alright.” Draco erupted in laughter, your skin crawling with irritation and disturbance. 

“Nonsense, Snape,” Draco dismissed Snape’s calming gestures. “She’s being deliriously dramatic. Come now,” Draco patted the now empty space beside him and you scoffed. ‘I won’t bite unless you’re begging, drop the theatrics, I can help you’, Draco offered. If you were wise, you would have made a run for it or fallen to your knees to plead with Snape for the counter. Instead, you accepted his offer. 

“This is mental, this is mental,” you whispered repeatedly to yourself, shaky steps forward to return slowly to your space beside him. He offered his hand, but you glared at him. You obviously don’t need to hold my hand, you commented mentally, your thoughts now common ground for conversation. 

‘I figured it would help you, but whatever you say’, Draco returned his hand to his side and you returned to your poised position, straightening your spine as much as you could under Draco’s skeptical stare. ‘You’re trying too hard, just focus on me. What am I thinking?’ You gritted your teeth, anoint hum just under your breath as you gathered your energy and relinquished it to flooding Draco. He felt it, welcoming your presence like you were returning home as you followed his guidance into his head. 

‘With a top as tight as that, it’s almost like you’re inviting me to effortlessly wave my fingers--’ you scoffed aloud to interrupt his thoughts as they unwound in your mind and your entire face reddened. 

“Draco!” you exclaimed, almost ready to slap the smug smirk from his lips. It worked. You could hear his thoughts. Professor Snape didn’t need to be a part of the mental exchange to understand your sudden scoff of horrified, shyed shame. You dove quickly off the table with a hand covering your lips, the agape brims of panic pulling you as far from Draco as possible. 

“You are correct to assume it works, Professor,” Draco grimaced, eyes pleasing himself to the view of your ass when you parted. Snape’s peculiar interest followed you, attentive to your agitated reaction until you were content in a statured support against his desk. Like distance would truly impact the connection in your head. You still heard him, nonetheless. 

‘She may detests me with her presence and I may not be fond of having her stay, but I can admit I take much pleasure in watching her leave’, his thoughts persisted in refractured consistency, oscillating through the arduous, mesh labyrinth of your cranium in absence of failed omission. You felt anxiety harbor in a tight boulder wedged in your rib cage along with the niche cavities poisoning your veins. You were close to hyperventilating, easily disregarding his cognitive comment. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape breathed, turning towards you with a concerned complexion. You were having an insensible response to the zeal of energy unlocked by the breaking of boundaries and blossoming of the bond. He’d originally thought his stable monitoring of the event was precise, but you were overwhelmed by all of it. The furor was recognizably unfamiliar and it honestly made your head hurt with retched sickness, black blurs in your eyesight only cured by the returning of Draco’s presence beneath your skin. 

Draco peeled himself off the table as well, a hesitant step across the room to watch where Professor Snape tried to comfort your outburst. Draco focused on your breathing and more specifically, the bind that allocated the irregular rhythms of your hysteric heartbeat. He didn’t acknowledge it with intent or purpose, a hidden worry for your dreaded dismay encouraging him to help of his own freewill. He tethered the connection to the melodious song of your heart racing in his ears, energy baring itself to the steady pace of his own. 

It only took a moment, but relief hailed into your lungs and returned tranquility to your pulsing panic, alleviating all of the fright that came with the loss of control with your own anatomy. You didn’t know it was him until your breathing relaxed into a tender tempo and you were able to see and think clearly, tension diminishing in gentle contractions. You picked your head up and caught his gaze just as he dropped it. 

“Are you alright?” Snape asked you once you caught your breath. You nodded your head, eyes still escorting Draco’s steps away. 

“I am,” you replied, sending him a slightly reassuring grin. Your eyes met his for a second, then returned to Draco. “Did you have something to do with that?” Draco’s back stayed facing you, silence alerting him that the question was intentionally directed towards him. 

“Not a clue what you’re talking about,” Draco avoided the question with an empty sigh. The same time as the pronunciation left his lips, the sound of shuffling and fumbling echoed through the thin wall dividing the office from the stores. Muffled through the wall but visible from your current stance between the bookshelves, you caught a glimpse of ginger locks. Your breath caught, the sudden noise hampering the rigid hostility suffocated in the room, your stomach dropping in terror once more. ‘Morons!’, you cursed mentally, clumsily clattering through means of distraction once Snape’s stare casted apart from you. 

‘Aw, is that your boyfriend? I wonder how much he overheard while sneaking through Snape’s stores. Is that your thing now? Going after bad influences? A tier down from me, but on the bright side, he’s definitely coming along nicely’, Draco had attended to your thoughts and shadowed your gaze to where you’d found the source between the shelves. You gritted your teeth and teetered upon your toes with him in your head.

‘Fuck off, Malfoy’, you shrilled in response. You begged yourself not to hang yourself upon his words, but the worry set in inevitably once Draco had spoken them in your head; did he head this? Of course, Draco’s logic had selected today of all days to think circles around your own. 

“Are we done here?” Draco cut in, pulling Snape’s attention back to the discussion here and away from the clear commotion you were trying to distract him from. You hadn’t realized his blurted out question was his notion to save you and keep Snape stalled from the dilemma. 

“No,” you agreed, tying Snape desperately into the center of the discussion. “How do we stop it?” there was an unintentional hint of skeptic liability directed from your dour tongue to Draco, who snickered in dubiety after helping your ass. 

“Do not try and flip this on me, y/n,” Draco hissed, a summon of defiance daring you to blame him. “You did this.”

“I did. I wanted to know,” you admitted just as loud as his tone had grown. You swallowed the hesitation, “I was wrong. How do we--”

“Barricade your mind from the other? The explicit opposite of everything we’ve been working towards this midday?” Snape figured, cynically. You folded your arms about your chest, your voice operating at the same speed of Draco’s.

“Yes,” you both agreed upon in unison. You both subliminally separated yourself an inched step further away. 

“It must be a mutual verdict,” Snape continued. Draco’s chuckling answered that question without need of your own inclusion. 

“I refuse to have you meddling about my mind,” Draco retorted to you, satire absurdity encouraging his deviance. “I’ve got better things to attend to rather than worry about your filthy infringement,” Draco’s mind was still facilitating through your own when the thoughts of time passing activities he had literally in mind took the same description as ‘Beauxbatons blondie’ mentioned in his head.

“You’re trying to be discreet as if your thoughts are now exclusive. Even without the tether, I know better. How is she? Miss Sebestien of Beauxbatons?” you rambled, your envy of such an effortlessly angelic creation unmistakably crucial. Draco’s smirk broadened upon your senile sentiment. 

“Clarisse is magnificent,” Draco answered. “Thank you for asking. I’ll let her know you extend greetings.” You didn’t know whether he’d intentionally messed up on his name because he was aware you were polite enough to correct him.

“Charlotte, and that is entirely unnecessary,” you huffed in a groan, cadence singed to your gut. “I have no desire to make this a frequent occasion, it was solely a determination juncture and it is over now. This, is over now,” you stated. It was shocking you still believed this after the numerous attempts prior failed humorously.

“So be it,” Snape sighed, succumbing to the offered need of his assistance. “Since this is not an ordinary encounter of Legilimency, it requires a spell more powerful than a common Occlumency enchantment.” Snape searched for the most beneficial source of remedy, then it struck him like the word was written across the walls. “Carcer Dissaeptum; it is an ameliorate device, a progressive alteration of Occlumency that is much more vigorous. It is stronger than your basic divisions of mind protection and preservation, but is not without faults or weaknesses,” Snape explained explicitly, still not certain to the resonated objections. 

“What does that mean?” you asked for more assurance, but the Snape turned away from you and retrieved a small cauldron. Draco took this opportunity to step forward, a lingered step to adjoin your stance facing Snape. You were able to feel his approach without a glance apart from Snape’s gestures. 

“It means that there is no guarantee it will prevail as a blockade or deterrent,” Draco answered for Snape, a confirmation of your worries that extended beyond the unknown connection. It meant that there was no warrant any of this would work to keep your thoughts private. Snape settled the cauldron on the desk between you and Draco. 

“That is correct,” Snape reaffirmed. You squeezed your sides tightly, letting the revelation descend inside of you. The thought cycled inside of you, Draco’s leering stare piercing your bearing posture through prolonged worry until the pledge resolved inside your chest that beckoned your advancement to the rim of the table. 

“It’s all we have,” you whispered in an assented nod. Draco took a moment to allow your bewildered agreement to transgress more thoroughly, you wanted to proceed with the spell. You blindly hoped it would be enough. Draco sighed and mirrored your tread further. 

“So be it,” Draco paralleled in a deep tone, sanctioned displeasure in his voice. “How can we produce the spell correctly?” he asked. To your surprise, he was agreeing to it as well. Draco was ready to step blindly into an enchantment that detangled this strange link. Snape looked just as shocked, but proceeded.

“Unlike Occlumency, it will require blood from you both as well as your consent to settle and sacrifice the potential of your tether,” Snape stated, producing a small steel dagger from the inners of his coat pocket. You wondered what a Professor had business with carrying around a wand and a weapon, but remained attentive to his explanation. “You will form a treaty, but I must advise you, before either of you proceed with this proposition, it is not indefinite unless you will it so.” Draco and you both exchanged a doubtfully unsure glance that produced a hiccup in your lungs. 

“Are you saying it won’t last?” you questioned him, wrenching your gaze free from his and replacing it to Snape’s. What is the use of a spell that has a probability ratio?

“That he is,” Draco formulated the reasoning himself, tapping his knuckles irritated against the desk with a grit of his jaw that echoed in your ears. “It’s an agreement unless either of us say otherwise and the impediment falls, is that it?” 

Snape bowed his head once, admitting without use a single syllable. 

“So either of us could liberate the barrier even after the spell?” you baffled out condundence, gripping your body tighter as if it could yield away his presence at your side. 

“Indeed,” Snape responded to you, watching the horror in your attention space out of focus. “If one of you wishes it, the other does not have a say. Since the connection has been unlocked both ways, it does not make a difference if the other does not want it. The only way the barrier rises again is by a reiteration of the spell; it must be done all over again as a requited decision between you both.”

“What do you recommend?” you asked just as Snape placed the steel blade onto the table. It was a presentation. 

“A vow to the other that the barrier shall remain for both of your sakes,” Snape figured, a weak abidance in more of a suggestion rather than a resolution. 

“And I’m just supposed to trust her?” Draco scoffed, a purse forming on your lips. You rooted your eyes to your slippers to maintain your resilience. He was still fighting, but you were sick of arguing when he refused to listen.

“I am not interested in what you feel,” Snape groaned out through a careless exhale. “It is obvious neither of you are prepared to possess that much power, so the tether must be sealed away until you both realize the other has nowhere to go.” Snape’s tone sharpened, no longer simply explaining the magic as opposed to reprimanded warnings expressed in resented frustration. Silence. 

“I agree,” the words stung like venom while leaving your tongue. You weren’t positive you they were truly being uttered in anything but a faint whisper. 

“As do I,” Draco declared, retrieving the dagger from the table without further instruction. He lunged for it, pale digits enclosing around the woven handle and drawing it to the strict spread of his opposite palm as he held it over the cauldron. You winced watching Draco drag the blade across his skin, red exuded from the gash that bled droplets into the pot. Blood was not a strong suit of yours, nausea emitting itself in dangerous sulking over your nerves. You pressed your hands to the table to support yourself, tearing your eyes away and choking up the limp in your throat. Draco accepted a bandage from Snape’s extended hand, pressing the tissue to his cut and closing his fist. He glanced over at you, your unease resonating with him clearly. “Give me your hand,” Draco insisted, causing your attention to flash back to his unwavering stare. You cautiously held forth your hand until it fell into his outstretched palm. The warmth relieved the illness immediately, an involuntary curve in your spine sinking into his touch. You were so caught up in the serene solace seeping through your veins that you didn’t register the pain from the blade piercing your palm as it slashed your skin for just a second. You winced harder, reluctantly leaning into his grasp with a gentle whimper at the blood trickling from your hand and into the pot to fuse with his own. Draco’s eyes softened in rued regret, sorrowed with regret while quickly bandaging your palm. He was tender to binding your wound, touch lingering everywhere like fire engulfing your senses. You weren’t aware your proximity had drawn you closer to his stance until a glance upwards was his gaze as he towered over you. Snape attended to the spell while you tore yourself free, tucking your hand close to your chest. He added a fine amount of herbs and then proceeded to instruct you both to endorse the consentment by proclaiming the chant; ‘Carcer Dissaeptum’.

“It’s done,” Snape then articulated through a stern statement, traction straining your core for a rigid moment after the emission from you both. It was like you could detect the barrier returning between you two. Draco snickered from your side.

“Good riddance, I was just about to blow my--” Draco’s taunting tone was interrupted by Snape’s annoyance. 

“You’re both going to be tardy to super,” Snape declared. “You are dismissed, go.” It was not a suggestion, he demanded you both to part and neither of you argued. 

“Yes, sir,” you retrieved your tote from the floor and turned to follow Draco out the door, admitting to yourself your loss of time. You paused to face Snape a last time, “thank you.” Snape bowed his head, strict hardness faltering on his features momentarily. You hurried after Draco, inexplicably wanting to speak with him just for a fraction. 

“I’m sorry for starting all of this,” you murmured once reaching his pace on the start of the spiral staircase. “Thank you for agreeing to--”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Draco snapped, forcing you to compete to keep up with him. Your feet would only carry you so fast up the stairs so it was becoming a struggle. His tone was hostile and aggressive again, making your heart skip a beat. 

“You didn’t snitch me out to Snape,” you breathed out the acknowledgement in a relieved tone.

“I had no reason to,” Draco answered blatantly. “I couldn’t give less of a damn about either of you. You would be a waste of my own time, and I can think of a few ways I’d rather spend my time than slumming it to your level of insignificance.”

“Charming, really,” you uttered. You saw through his harsh words, like always. “I happen to know you better than that to grasp your display of that negligent lie again. I’m not sorry, but thank you for not offering my objectives to Snape.”

“Whatever,” Draco spat, brushing off your honest observation. He left you behind, picking up his pace to abandon you behind him once you’d both reached the top of the spiral staircase leading towards the Great Hall. You paused in your own steps, swallowing sharply while your eyes erroneously followed his frame to where he joined the others who awaited him off towards the far wall. 

You ceded to further torment watching him spare you a glance to assure you were still watching as he yanked Charlotte herself from the group and practically swallowed her whole. Draco kissed her only because he knew you were watching, the satisfaction of hurting you by snogging her only praising his ego. He held her by her waist to him and just about stuck his tongue down her throat while you descended into twinging torment that betrayed you. You didn’t want to be vexed with jealousy, but it was all still unconventional and foreign to you. 

“There she is! Culprit enchantress, I definitely believed you were a goner there,” George’s voice sounded in delight from behind you as he strolled to your side. Fred was not in sight, but your entire demeanor flowered into flush felicity just hearing his voice. You smiled brightly, turning to face George’s goofy grin. 

“I almost was thanks to you or your brother’s graceless ruckus, you idiots!” you exclaimed, batting your fingers against his shoulder. George chuckled, eyes enlightened with humor and warmth that eased all of the tormenting tension torn into your nerves from Draco. His presence was lively, welcoming, but there was still an ounce of worry residing in you from Draco’s earlier sentiment. Had he heard any of it? If so, how much had he heard? But if he had heard, you expected him to be running for the hills rather than making your acquaintance with delight cherub.

“I apologize sincerely for the actions of my clumsy brother,” George laughed, giggle cascading from your brims to accompany his humorous commentary. With his immediate blame directed towards Fred, who was unable to defend himself, you were sure it was actually George who was the guilty one. George reached out and you didn’t flinch away from his hand as his fingertips brushed a stray curl from your eyes, grin enlightened with all the bubbly brilliance your eyes had ever seen. A giddy, goofy grin still alive on his lips when he spoke so merrily, “if I may, I would love nothing more than the honor of making it up to you.”

“Oh?” your eyes illuminated, butterflies blooming effervescently. “Does that mean I get to know what it was that you and your brother were up to down there?” 

“I don’t see why not, but I can’t talk about it quite yet,” George got you excited to hear the truth and then just shut it back down, causing a pastel pout to emit from your bottom lip. You were about to groan out a frustrated sigh when he flashed charming, foolish pearls. “I had another proposal in mind for you, lovely Huffle.”

“I’m intrigued,” you remarked, joyously. George glowed through your favorable optimism, eager to speak the words you’d been impatiently awaiting. 

“Saturday morning,” he pronounced through the sparkle of happy hues. You felt your heart beating everywhere, rose petals staining your cheeks with a ruby rush, ablaze in the blush of your skin. “Say yes.”

You didn’t need a second, shimmering smile radiant on your brims. “Yes! Yes, of course,” you bowed your head in a sad attempt to hide the wild blush. “I would love that very much.”

“Perfect! It’s a date,” he cheered in a delightfully upbeat buoyancy. His enthusiasm brought you butterflies you took pleasure in harboring because they didn’t betray you, nor were they wrong. You were so lost in the lively sparkle spirited in his hues when his hand fled to caress your cheek and draw you swiftly to his lips. You were barely adjusting to the surprise of his touch when he kissed you, passionately, right there while Draco bore daggers even with the blonde beauty Charlotte was tucked under his arm. 

Why? Because she wasn’t you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for making it this far! I am so sorry if it bored you, but there was a lot of details that were important to what I want to unfold in the storyline. I'm surprised I've written this much, but I could not have gotten through it without all of you! Lots of love!


	12. Watercolor Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days leading up to your date with George Weasley are eventful, but it is the date that is truly most notable, even if the sweet gestures of a redhead romantic do not end as desirable as he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 12! Thank you for making it this far, I am so happy to have you here and reading. Please let me know what you think, happy reading! I love you all!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

The week could not pass any dreadfully slower.

You'd felt off for some time, but had no intention of registering it. A day or so after Cedric's confession, you could sense it, but disregarded it as a fluke or just your mind playing tricks on you because of all the stress you'd been under. Worrying that kept you up for hours, but made you contemplate what it was that felt so wrong. You were still about your normal routine, it was just deprived of its usual flare of friendship from Cedric and Elle, but it was not a gap that remained empty. You were fortunate enough to be blessed with sharing George's time after classes and leading up to super. After then, it was just you again when hours came upon an end and you were curfewed to your own houses for the night. 

On a couple of occasions, Ginny had realized finding George meant tracking him to the library, where she'd discover him with you, and a few tables over, if she was lucky and it was a good day, she would find Fred with Angelina. You wished you and Angelina were closer, but she was a year or two ahead of you and the only thing you really shared was a questionable fancying of gingers. Ginny begged you to join her and the others in Gryffindor, but you declined and thanked her graciously for the offer. You thought about it, agreeing that it would be a nice alternative to listening to the Hufflepuffs relentlessly gossip about the tournament and Cedric, who was already a sensitive topic to you. Yet, the last thing you needed was giving anyone another reason to question you. Whether that was Cedric, Elle, Neville, Draco, literally anyone or even Snape; you just wanted things to calm down. 

You simply didn’t feel familiar. Showers began to slow strangely, you had actually disliked bathing unless the water was boiling and scorching your skin in a scornful singe. Sure, your skin would appear reddish and almost raw, but without hot water, your shower was uncomfortable. You hated the scent of your own soap, unaware it was truly because your nose had yearned for the pleasure of roots and mint. Your sheets felt rougher, no longer soft at the touch or as silky as you’d remembered. They were dull and dry, barely granting you warmth and lacking any comfort that desired the bedding that harbored a truly rich aroma and relaxation. There were other elements that had altered as well, even without your recognition. Like the way you signed your alphabet, extending the tail of the a’s like only one other set of hand-writing you’d ever seen. Or the way you wore your insignia so that it was not a perfect tie in the center, a small slant barely noticeable, but also only comparable to one other. A remote gesture that had you boredly twirling your wand through your knuckles and dancing it between your digits in class. You’d never intentionally learned wand twirling, nor did you know where any of it came from. 

Tuesday Tea

You’d kept your upcoming date to yourself mainly because there was really no one to share it with. Since Elle and Cedric were rather aloof anyways, you actually found yourself eating meals with Susan, Hannah and Ernie. Not that they included or even acknowledged your presence while chattering among themselves, the entire house riled with excitement with the first task right around the corner. For the most part, you tried to hide away your still wounded hand. There were really only a handful of people that asked about it when they’d caught a glimpse, but they tended to ask just to ask, none cared. You faked some stupid excuse about tripping or relating it to the accidental, small puncture that was the result of rose thorns. Everyone bought it with a shrug or sentiment of sorrow, no one really had reasons to doubt you.

Everyone but George, of course. George noticed first thing the next day when he joined you in the library, gifting you with tea while making your company. You blushed like a strawberry and accepted it with gracious gratitude, though it wasn’t your favorite blend of apple cinnamon exactly to your mum’s recipe with lemon zest and ginger. You missed home when it came to tea, exceptionally much solely because no tea could compete with your mother’s blend of perfection.

George was without his shadow; absent of his other half and explaining weakly that Fred was preoccupied in a study session with a certain Gryffindor gal. Which was why he found you. The minute George sat down, he voiced concern seeing your bandaged palm resting beside the parchment. When you tried to hide it, he crossed the table and fled to your side to carefully inspect the wrappings himself. He asked what happened and you mistakenly got your lies mixed up while trying to produce them simultaneously. George warranted the truth from you, questioning your foolish attempts at lying to him.

You told him a mere fraction of the truth, mainly due to the fact it was insanely difficult to lie to him. You hated it. You told him you were trying to render an ancient sleeping charm you’d stumbled upon and tried to grate a howlite crystal for its shavings with a rusty blade. George teased you for testing old magic without help, warning you that the backfire of a simple sleeping spell or even warm milk was probably more efficient than an old rune. He begged you to ask him about it prior when there was a chance you could hurt yourself. He teased, but it warmed you.

Then, like a good knight in shiny armor, George packed up all your books and belongings, tossing your tote over his shoulder along with plucking you from your seat. He walked you to the hospital wing himself, happily announcing his presence to Madame Pomfrey while escorting you in. Madame Pomfrey almost betrayed her good heart in cursing at the sight of the Weasley. The kind woman believed you were just another victim of the Weasley's tricks and pranks, but you laughed in dismissal and explained it was just a small cut that was the outcome of an accident rather than a Weasley ruse.

George stayed with you, sitting just behind you on the cot so that your back was propped up on the support his own. Madame Pomfrey cleaned your wound and you inadvertently shot your hand down at the singe seeping inside the sensitive slash. Your hand unconsciously found his own as it rested just off to the side, and you clenched his fingers in an outlet of the pain. He didn’t mind, he comforted you and stroked his finger over your hand as it grasped his. She healed the cut and issued you with a clean notion of sparkling health. Before George could walk you back to Hufflepuff, she made a joke about watching who you occupied your time with if you desired to keep your limbs. George scoffed but played along with the sweet older lady, grinning all the while. He told her you should be so lucky and she agreed, laughing whilst she shooed you both from the clinic. She admitted he was a sweetie but didn’t disagree he was truly a trickster.

All you knew was that he was better than your last and you had no reason to believe otherwise. The risk of your limbs and sanity were just collateral you could handle.

George took you back to Hufflepuff and you spent the stroll talking honestly and openly about Cedric and Elle. You ranted about how lonely you’d felt without either of them constantly there and he listened. He still refused to pry into your brain and demand to know your feelings, but he attentively adhered to your admissions. He expressed his sorrows but instructed you to give them time. You knew he was right. George also clarified you were never alone, that he was always there for you if you should need anything from playful pranks or silly snacks, or just a friend. You’d expressed your dearest gratitude while blushing like a fool as he kissed your knuckles rather than your lips, wishing you a goodnight and parting. 

You were beyond eager and excited; yondering impatiently together with counting the endless amount of minutes that passed until your date came this weekend.

Wednesday Wonders

The following day was quite similar. George accustomed himself to the privilege of presenting you with tea after class when he’d join you in the library. It was becoming odd to see so much of him without Fred, but the time alone with George gave you the perfect chance to get to know him. You neglected your work when he was around seeing that George was abundantly more intriguing and interesting than your books. You tried to chat quietly in the library, every so often being scowled about volume by Miss Pince, but your ecstatic enthusiasm was wildly unruly while with George. You still pried to get him to reveal his intentions in Snape’s stores, but he teased you about your impatience and asked you to wait for your date. You agreed, ever so restlessly.

He made you laugh, not simply soft giggles, but full chortles at his jokes and comedic personality that never failed to make you smile. You conversed about family, goals, the future, the Triwizard Tournament and everything else either of you could think up. It was so easy to talk to him, especially when yammering progressed into delightfully flirtatious bickering back and forth. You’d lost track of time while embraced in his presence, announcements of super forcing you both to call it a night for the time being. George had just begun to accompany you to the Great Hall when an affrayed hint of hushed laughter from the corner caught your attention just before you were able to part from the library. It captured only the smallest glimpse from your eye, but caused you to pause behind George’s stride ahead of you. He realized you were no longer at his side with just a couple steps to the fore of you, tracing his footsteps back to observe what had detained your attention. 

You weren’t pale or reddened with sadness, it was a gentle smile that beckoned upon your lips at what you’d seen in the depths of the library. Their backs were towards you, but their manners in close proximity of one another was purely agreeable and pleasant. You’d known of her, not a friend or foe, but simply a fellow student you hadn’t had the fortune of making the acquaintance of. Ravenclaw girl visible through the hood bearing a blue inseam, straight, dark hair and a lovely, genuine smile.

“Is that Cho Chang with Cedric?” George asked, once he’d depicted the fount of your focus. He positioned himself closely, his head falling down to your angle to accurately locate the source of your gaze. You nodded your head with a glad grin upon your lips. You seized George’s hand before it became obvious you were both staring, returning to blend back in with the crowd heading towards the Great Hall. 

You were lost to your smiles while pondering the friendship between Cedric and Cho Chang from Ravenclaw. You didn’t know they were friendly with one another, but from the sight of them in the library, they were well past polite mannerisms. Why were you happy? Because he was. Cedric was smiling sincerely while he appeared to be getting to know Miss Chang rather closely. If you didn’t know better, you would suggest it was even flirtatious. 

You said your farewell gestures to George for the night, forgetting you’d still been holding his hand when you walked through the doorway. Susie, or Susan Boones urged you over to join their discussion about the first task that was just two days away, Zacharias joining you all between Ernie and Hannah. The argument was just pertaining to Cedric’s confidence or concern anticipated with the task approaching. They all figured since you were his closest confidant, you would know. All figured, but Zacharias, who knew the truth about his blatant avoidance of you these last few weeks, but he didn’t interject. You brushed it off, explaining he was no match for any absurd, dangerous task the Tournament had in store for him. It was Ernie who had gossip about the Gryffindor’s “champion”, apparently not even all Gryffindors were supporting poor Potter at this time. You didn’t understand how his own friends could disregard him, but you were not unfamiliar to the situation. You expressed honest pity for him under the scrutinization of Ron and the others. Poor Potter indeed. 

Thursday Thieves 

Thursday you got to the library and were already impatiently waiting for George’s company. You didn’t even open your books. Your eyes fastened on the entrance of the library while tapping your quill against the edge of your jaw, sighing silently to yourself. To your startling stun, George had snuck in earlier and caught you off guard by surprise by appearing at your opposite side while you were concentrating on the doorway. You’d almost fallen over in your seat when he suddenly teased right beside your head about who you were waiting for, knowing very proudly so that it was himself. You batted his shoulder and he extended a cup of tea for his troubles, glad you hadn’t settled at all into the table with your stuff still tucked away. He had other plans, he took your bag and then your hand, leading you out of the library before you could object. 

“Where are we off to?” you asked, smaller feet struggling to keep up with his long strides through the corridor. He led you up the nearest staircase, mumbling to himself about direction as if he’d scouted out exactly where you were heading. 

“It’s a surprise,” he replied with a shrug of his lanky shoulders. George’s dull response was coincided by offering your hand a soft squeeze while it rested in his grasp, fingers interlaced with his own.

“A good surprise or something I should be worried about?” you questioned after him. George was basically dragging you this way and that, passing by classrooms and floors faster than you could try to articulate what your destination was. Four years in the castle and it was still so easy to get lost.

“Neither,” George admitted, casting you a goofy grin right over his shoulder. You laughed aloud, rolling your eyes.

“Pardon--?” you tried to clarify what he meant, but George was speaking over you, not necessarily towards you. You were lost on more than one account. 

“It appears we’re early,” George sighed, finally stopping right outside an ajar door and poking his head in. You tried to follow his gesture to understand what was happening and what the significance of an empty classroom was, but he tugged you back out into the hallway.

“Early? What ever are we attending--?” your line of puzzled queries were cut short. This time, it was not George’s words that silenced you, rather his lips. He interrupted your questions by cupping his hands gently on either side of your cheeks and drawing himself down to your lips to kiss you deeply. You were stunned, your words falling into oblivion while returning the gesture, his goofy grin pressed to your brims through genuinity. The kiss awoke the butterflies again. It was deep, but not lust or fiery passion like you’d attuned from a sour snake. Under the butterflies, your unconscious became torn in harrowed indecision that yearned treacherously for intimacy just like it. It was bitter betrayal, but you buried it deep within and granted yourself the moment of existing in the moment with George. Your hands stretched to wrap themselves around his neck, forcing you onto your tippy toes to meet the ardor of his embrace. He was twice your height, a lanky giant you could barely reach with lips like cracked, chapped pillows dampened by the dewy kiss upon your soft, sweet smile. 

It was one kiss, the taste of cinnamon still soaked upon your brims. When George pulled away, you were both smiling brightly towards one another and relaxing into the comfortable nearness. “What was that for?” you asked, flame flush to your cheeks. George stroked his thumb just over the curve of your cheekbone, sighing gently. 

“A counter offer,” George’s voice was mellow, as if hopefully defeated. You were still so confused, questions still forming on your lips. 

“A what--?” you weren’t allowed to finish, George’s hands falling to your shoulders and swiftly guiding you back into the classroom. With a final cautious shove, George pushed you in and shut the door quickly behind him at the same time as a secondary slam came from the opposite side of the room. You turned to find the source of the sudden ruckus, eyes widening when they’d landed upon the other figure now locked in this room along with yourself. 

“Cedric?” you blurted out his name through a gasp, eyes daring to fall from your sockets at the shock of his presence. It sounded like he’d had the same experience just then, off-balanced and adjusting the sides of his robe as the door behind him locked closed as well. You could only wonder who was behind his entrapment, sure your options were narrowed to one. 

“Hello dearest,” Cedric’s features elicited a sad smile, sigh parting his open brims while his mind worked to untangle the right words. He looked surprised, but not distressed as you. Your suspicion elevated, was this his scheme, was it George’s? What in heaven's sake was happening? Could there be a chance they were in it together? You would have argued, but you needed this time with Cedric, as much as cryptically allowed by this scheme. George and Cedric working together? Odd since you were usually his partner in crime and Fred was George’s. You were missing something.

“‘Hello dearest’?” You scoffed, stepping closer into the room to examine his features more clearly. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and ‘hello dearest’ is what I get?” you didn’t want to walk on eggshells anymore nor did you necessarily want to lash out, but he put you through a lot by issuing the silent treatment. A charming ‘hello dearest’ was not going to easily acquit him of what he’d done. 

Cedric sighed, a pep in his step nearer that only meant he was excited for a reason beyond catching up. You gave up. He was not running or avoiding you at every turn, he was actually acknowledging your presence after weeks of yearning and missing him. You succumbed to trying to be cross with him and crossed the room in a heartbeat to tackle him into a tight hug. You both laughed at the gesture, almost losing your balance in the embrace while squeezing the life out of one another. You both needed this if there was ever going to be a chance at conversing the truth of this in a civilized manner. 

“I figured it would be the best transition to lead to an apology, but I also don’t know what exactly has to be said,” Cedric breathed into your hair like a pitiful confession. Once you both stepped away, he gestured towards two seats extended at his side and you followed him without question, eager to converse. The moment you sat down beside him, your mouth moved without consideration from your mind. 

“How long?” you asked, barely letting him sit completely before jumping into it. There were a lot of holes in your slim understanding, much of the story or explanation behind his feelings missing. You had weeks to think about what you honestly wanted to say to him, but being with him now was so strange that you’d forgotten your speech. Cedric settled into a silent ponder, dropping his eyes to hands which knitted together in his lap. 

“When we were kids,” Cedric murmured, a knife twisting in your gut. How could you be so ghastly oblivious? You were bitterly unaware of the true feelings from your best friend, how unmindful could you possibly be? Cedric continued, a chuckle brimmed from his throat, “that day in the treehouse just after my mother...” his voice trailed off and your heart sunk a bit at the memory that flooded your thoughts. You were haunted with your own disregard, weary eyes fluttering closed as your lips sunk in a sharp inhale. 

“You’ve kept this from me for the better time of a decade, Cedric?” you supposed, drawing the lines yourself through the slight statement. Cedric bowed his head to confirm it for you, regret ripping you to pieces. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” you felt the sadness in your body stem itself into your eyes, stinging the watery rims of your orbs. 

Cedric finally glanced up towards you and a lump formed in his throat, knowing he was the cause of the tears pooling on the brink of your eyes. “I wanted to,” he replied, reaching for your fingers and settling his hand down to comfort your own. “But it wasn’t until... him, that I actually understood what I felt went beyond just being dutifully protective over you,” Cedric professed, strong disgust evident in his tone when refusing to name Malfoy. You dropped your gaze from his eyes to your hands, breathing becoming more difficult while trying to fight off the tears and not react so unfavorably to the mention of Malfoy. 

“Cedric—” you started to object, silenced by a squeeze of your fingers under his. You met his stare. 

“I’m sorry,” he pronounced so sincerely. “I tried to move on after I kissed you last year and it was quite obvious you did not feel the same, but I made every excuse I could think of. I thought you may have been confused after everything... And I suppose my feelings haven’t fully pardoned me yet,” Cedric figured, withdrawing his hand from your own and settling into the back of his seat. He was becoming more ashamed of himself, troubled by the recollection of his confessions that night. You couldn’t lose him. But you wouldn’t lie to him in an attempt to spare yourself the pain. You lunged towards just as a tear traced down your cheek, hands enclosing around his own and dragging it to your center. You stared at him through the blur of salty droplets in your eyes, forcing the words through your tight throat. 

“Cedric, I love you,” you cried out, clenching his hands tighter to you. “You are my favorite friend and closest confidant. You know that I will always love you, but I can’t lose you,” you were struggling to utter the words through your own sobs. This hurt. “I could never do anything that could risk giving up this friendship. I love you as you are to me, a friend and even as a brother, but I—” he tried to tear his hand away before you could finish, dropping his gaze into denial. As if his advertence would keep it from being so. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Cedric interrupted, more of a plea for you not to say it. He didn’t want to hear it, but you couldn’t stop now. 

“I do,” you whispered, keeping his hands close. “For both our sakes, it needs to be said aloud, and I’m so sorry if it just hurts worse… Ced, my dearest Diggs, I don’t have feelings like that for you. You are wonderful, truly, but right now, I can’t...” your voice became truant on your own tongue, streams of sorrowful tears pouring from your cheeks. Cedric turned his head away and it wounded you worse just to see him in pain because of you. You wanted to take it away, but lying to him would have just made this much more awful. You couldn’t do that to him, as much as you so selfishly desired to rather than deal with the reality of his heartbreak. 

“I know,” Cedric exhaled in a cough, clearing his throat to secrete his sadness. “And that’s alright. I know, in the end, we’ve spent the time of our lives with one another, and we’ve got an eternity remaining. I’m not worried, you’ll fall for me eventually,” you rolled your eyes through the tears, both of you emitting gloomy laughter. Cedric freed his hand and used it to wipe your tears while you focused on trying to stop yourself from crying more. He was mad, but you were pretty sure he already knew that. After everything, he knew that you were fated to another and began to show signs of adoration for a friend, but still believed that he would eventually get your hand. You gave him credit for blatant optimism, as faulty and unlikely as it was. 

“You think so?” you asked, brow raised while propping yourself up onto your palm. You shimmied away the sadness, swallowing it all and breathing a deep inhale that flourished in your lungs to grant you tranquility. You didn’t let on, but the notion still appeared to be unimaginable to you. He was good, you knew that as you knew the sun and the moon, but he was a friend, not a lover. 

“Think about it,” Cedric flattened out his shirt, unraveling the knitted scarf resting around his neck and handing it to you. “It had been us since the beginning; it only makes sense that it could be us in the end. I can wait.” You wondered how long he would be waiting, the thought uneasily raking through your nerves. You couldn’t lead him on, you wouldn’t give him the slightest idea there could be a chance of your “eventual” affection. 

“Cedric—” you began to protest, Cedric’s scarf still outstretched towards you. He shook his head and placed the scarf upon your lap as a peace offering. You beamed down at the wool fabric and bundled it close to your heart. 

“And if we should find people that make us happy, and are truly, acceptably and undoubtedly good with virtue and morality, then we would be nothing but gratefully pleased for the other,” Cedric finished, the declaration difficulty trudged through a twinge of despair. Your head sunk from your shoulders, his intent solely to slander a specific Slytherin. It wasn’t for your greater good, he had one person in mind by describing everything Draco wasn’t. It was clear, he wanted everything he was for you, it was what you truly deserved--yet, you’d fallen short. You thought about laughing at his implication, shaking your head at the signs of the past. Cedric noticed your uneasy shift, and continued himself with a small grin forming on his lips. “People like George Weasley of Gryffindor?” he wiggled a brow playfully. You giggled while throwing the scarf around your neck, recognizing that it wasn’t a tone of envy or detest, it was a teasing testament. He was grinning in approval, cheer coddled on his pleasantly kind complexion, restoring the sweet familiarity of warmth and home. 

“People like Cho Chang of Ravenclaw?” you matched the teasing quirk of his brows and he cracked into a fit of flushed laughter that compelled you to do the same. He leaned forward and freed the hair that had become tucked in the scarf, letting it bounce down to your shoulders. 

“Touche,” Cedric surrendered, sheepishly. He tightened the knit of his scarf secure around you and sighed happily, both of your sad eyes staring into the friendly familiarity of one another. “I love you, teacup,” Cedric whispered, a hopeful smile upon his lips that you mirrored. 

“I love you too, Diggs,” you both stood and embraced the other closely. Loud sniffling the opposite side of the door behind him caught your attention and you chuckled, pulling yourself momentarily from Cedric as you both rolled your eyes. The door unlocked that very second and Elle’s weeping dramatics flooded into the room. 

“Aw,” she cooed, overjoyed at the sight of you both smiling and hugging like friends. “I l-love you g-guys so much,” she was barely breathing over her own joyous cries. You and Cedric laughed but extended open arms which she rushed into. You didn’t know how she’d manipulated the hug, but she assured you were the squished center, all of your laughter creating a splendid melody through the empty classroom. The friends were reunited at last. 

George could not stay and catch up, Elle explaining something about his brother from Romania it had something to do with the Tournament, but not much else. You were positive it was just because Elle had already forgotten the explanation of his whereabouts he'd certainly given her for you. 

“How did you guys manage to talk George into this?” you’d asked on the way to the Great Hall for super. Elle and Cedric exchanged a glance among themselves that spoke confusion without words. “What is it?” 

Elle furrowed her brows, “this was Weasley’s idea. He found us this morning and had it all planned out.” Your heart skipped a beat, daisies blossoming into a pink flush to your cheeks while you took your seats beside them in the Hufflepuff tables. George did this, he brought you all back together. Then it made sense. 

George’s kiss, the “counter offer”, it was his way of telling you that you had another option. He wasn’t sure what you felt, he didn’t know what would come with bringing you back to the same friend who had announced he’d been in love with you. He did it because he didn’t want to see you sad and figured he would try to fix it, even if there was a chance he would lose you to him. He kissed you so deeply because he thought there was a possibility it could have been the last, and he was okay with losing you to Cedric if it was what you wanted. He was offering himself, not in competition, but not simply letting you go entirely without taking a last second to inform you he was still there. George Weasley was a romantic. 

You tried to find him once the meal was served, but the Gryffindor table was absent off all gingers. Strange, they must have all been with the brother, if Elle had any idea what she was really talking about. You couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow. 

Everything was finally adapting back into your normal routine and you were more than glad to put it all behind you. It felt as though you'd been without your friends for an eternity, but the moment you'd all reunited, it was as if they'd never left. 

Other than hug the life out of you, the next thing Elle did when you settled was demand details about this newfound alliance with George. You thought the topic would be sensitively fragile or create tension with Cedric, but he was just as interested, almost as much as you were eager to hear the gossip about him and Cho. You let him believe that you'd been sold on the idea they were just friends, but you knew what you saw. You recognized it because that was as close as he'd been to you, but you didn't say anything as to upset your emotionally brittle companion. Elle was bored, the constant love cycles existing around her but excluded from herself failing to add amusement to her life, but she warned both of you not to worry because she was doing well, vicariously living through you both. 

When it was just you and Elle later in the dormitory, she insisted on picking apart your brain to gain the truth. She was relentless with her questions, completely absurd with her theories about Malfoy not being completely off the table yet. You laughed at her, bringing up every painful memory where he treated you and your feelings like pure shit. You were happy with George, he made you happy by just being himself. She asked you if you loved him and you thought she was joking again, but she was incredibly serious with her question. 

You told her you didn't know, you'd only been thinking of him in this new light for a few weeks, it was too soon to tell if you had feelings for him that went beyond fancying him. He was handsome in a goofy way, but Elle made a point to remind you he was not Malfoy. She asked you if you loved him instead. She actually thought you could love a heartless serpent like him, and you couldn't answer. 

You tried to force out any reply, shocked at the refusal in your body that kept you from laughing your arse off at the suggestion. Love him? Draco Malfoy? A boy so scared of his own feelings that he'd rather hurt others and hide his emotions away from the world? And you. She was delusional for even daring to speak such a horrid remark, but you were absolutely mental because you didn't know the answer to that either. You refused to let yourself think like that, after doing so well to ignore him and the bond you shared for weeks, days even following what happened with Snape. It had to be this way, neither of you could deal with one another in their heads, it would drive you both off a cliff. Why you? Why him? Countless boys to pick from, and the spirits chose a fate that bound you to him, and when neither of you wanted the connection, they decided to try and bribe you with gifts like a mind tether that you dreaded even more so than the silly connection. 

She saved you from having to produce a concrete answer, teasing that you ought to decide what it is you want sooner rather than later. You threw a pillow at her and cuddled your kitten to help you sleep. Not that it helped since Elle had planted the seed of Malfoy in your head right before you were lulled off into slumber, sprouting your dreams of turmoil influx solely to him.

Friday Fame

Students were blessed with no classes to casually attend to the first task that afternoon, which left you all the entire morning to dawdle and dally with the others. It was at breakfast that morning that the badges were dumped on your table in handfuls. 

“What’s this?” you asked, accepting the pin as it was hurled towards you by Hannah, who was laughing harshly with the others. They were enchanted, you watched the yellow supporting picture of Cedric’s face as the “real” Hogwarts Champion spun out into a green “Potter Stinks” statement. Zacharias was laughing loudly with the others while decorating his robe with multiples, you rolled your eyes and threw yours upon the table. “Very mature, Zacharias,” you sneered, stealing the one Elle was attempting to button to her robe and tossing it at the boy who ducked in a timely fashion. Elle was offended, as was Zacharias, who dropped down into the open seat beside Cedric. 

“Wasn’t my idea, but they’re bloody brilliant,” Zacharias snickered, shaking Cedric’s shoulder, proudly. You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head at his imprudent ridicules. 

“They’re rude and disrespectful,” you answered, correcting his statement. Elle hummed while lifting her cup to her lips. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it, but--” Elle started to argue, but Cedric cut her off before you had the privilege of calling her out on it. 

“No,” Cedric declared, standing tall and piling the badges back into the box. “Y/n’s right. I don’t want to be associated with these, please do not wear them and pretend like you are supporting me because you dislike Harry. Who did this?” Cedric stared down at Zacharias expectantly while the boy picked at scraps off of Elle’s plate. Zacharias' head picked up when you cleared your throat and he became aware of everyone’s stare. 

“Hey, don’t look at me, they are gifts from Slytherin,” Zacharias' hands fled up in defensive innocence. Cedric’s eyes averted to something past you, and you were close to following his gaze to find what it was that caught his gaze. 

“Slytherin? Who--” Elle began to ask, but Cedric quickly grabbed his books from the table top motioned you both to follow. You and Elle jumped up to hurry after him, leaving Zacharias and the others at the table as you all fled out into the courtyard. 

“I wonder,” Cedric interrupted, his long strides forcing you and Elle to power-walk after him. “Who could possibly hate Harry--” you froze in your steps once his sarcastic chime finally resonated with you. Of course. 

“Malfoy,” you breathed out his name, both Elle and Cedric slamming to a stop and backtracking their own steps to join your startled statue. Cedric nodded, Elle looping her arm around yours to draw you in gentle steps forward. Elle tilted her head towards Cedric once you finally reached a spot in the grass, Cedric laying himself down on a stone pew. 

“Not to point out the obvious, but I wouldn’t think Draco is your biggest--” Elle helped you down into a seat upon the grass beside Cedric’s bench and then gracefully flopped down next to you. Cedric bathed in the fall breeze, sighing to silence her remark. 

“I guess I’m fortunate he hates Potter more than he loathes me,” Cedric admitted in another angst of annoyance. It was obvious that Cedric and Draco had tension between them, ever since the incident in the hallway after he’d found Draco’s tie among your things. Yet, he couldn’t hate anyone as much as he hated Harry. Knots knitted through your insides while Elle and Cedric began to discuss the task, he didn’t know what to expect but wasn’t scared. After another few minutes, Zacharias and the others disrupted the conversation, still proudly presenting the badges on their robes. 

Elle and you had become bored, chatting while playing with the grass as the others spoke. Your attention drifted upwards and caught sight of a figure stalking quickly and determined towards you. Your eyes widened and you quickly punched Cedric’s arm as it hung off the side of the bench. 

“Harry’s coming, Harry’s coming, Harry’s coming,” you whispered in a flailed panic, averting your eyes to the grass as he approached. Cedric couldn’t make out your words, still reclined when Harry closed in and commotion from the others started. You’d never seen Cedric jump so quickly. Elle’s horror took place in an inappropriate giggle she tried to muffle while kicking Zacharias' leg as he cruelly taunted Harry to read the badges. 

“Can I have a word?” Harry asked, Cedric’s shrug following a nod as you shoved him off the bench and he followed Harry just a couple steps away to grant them some privacy. You scowled the others who continued to laugh and mock Harry even after he left. They chatted briefly, but Cedric’s humor seemed to dissolve in pale horror before Harry appeared to just storm away. You and Elle popped up to your feet, eager to learn what it was that has Cedric so startled. You kicked Zacharias' leg out before he could race you to Cedric, making sure the boy fell back down onto the bench so you and Elle could reach him first. 

“What was that--” you started, but Cedric shook his head, still stunned and watching Harry storm up to Ron and Seamus. 

“Dragons,” Cedric stated, glancing back over to you and Elle. You thought you heard him wrong, but he repeated himself. “That was about dragons.” You and Elle exchanged a glance, puzzled perplexity visible through what you imagined was an insulting joke. 

“Dragons? What--” Elle tried to form your confusion into an explanation of sorts from Cedric, but a shout echoed from the large tree in the corner of the courtyard caught all of your attention. 

“Why so tense, Potter?” you recognized the voice barking the cruel comment just as Ron and Seamus passed you and the others. Draco was calling down to Potter from the tree; why was he in a tree? Harry tried to keep walking, but Draco kept taunting. 

Cedric looked down to you, none of you realizing Draco and the other Slytherins had even followed you into the courtyard after Cedric caught him smirking at breakfast. Both him and Elle were staring at you, as if you were going to shatter just hearing his voice. 

“I’m fine,” you nodded, accepting Elle’s hand as it reached out to your own. Cedric turned to see Harry huffing towards the tree, going after him without another moment of hesitation. He was worried for Harry and it was showing. You took a deep inhale and then trailed shortly after Cedric, dragging Elle along to the tree just in time to watch Draco jump to the ground. 

Harry was shouting back, ignoring Draco’s tormenting snicker. To your surprise, he shoved Malfoy and your eyes went wide. You hid most of yourself behind Cedric, not wanting Draco’s attention. You agreed with Potter, Draco could be quite pathetic, but watching the rage boil in tight resentment upon Malfoy’s features was alarming. Harry turned his back and Draco was going for his wand. 

“No,” you muttered just under your breath, a step forward to get in the way or alert Harry stopped by Cedric’s hand and Professor Moody. He rushed in to protect Harry, a swift swat of his hand casting a blink of light in Draco’s direction. 

You were scared for a moment, but amusement twisted in your features watching Draco’s blonde locks swirl with fur and shrink him down into Moody’s transfiguration charm. Laughter erupted from the new crowd of onlookers, Elle squeezing your side while the laughter calmed your nerves. You grinned to yourself, not necessarily upset in the slightest. Draco deserved worse than becoming a tiny ferret jumping and twirling through the air at Moody’s control, even Harry was chuckling at the sight. Your laughter skyrocketed, silenced shortly by Professor McGonagall rushing in just in time to catch Moody throwing Malfoy into Crabbe’s trousers. It looked like he’d bitten Goyle, who tried to help free him from Crabbe’s trousers, the white rodent fleeing from the bottom of Crabbe’s pant leg. Professor McGonagall tapped her wand towards Draco again and he shifted back into himself, tousled hair and panic alerted through his features while he jumped up. He was then chased around the backside of the tree after attempting to threaten Professor Moody by snitching to his father. Elle hugged you close to her side, still worried about you as she did often. 

Draco caught you watching while sprinting past, the gaze torn apart immediately and too short to really reveal anything but your presence to Moody making a mockery out of him. McGonagall scowled Moody and dismissed you all, Cedric and Elle pulling you off elsewhere to discuss what Potter had told Cedric. 

It was just a few hours until the first task and Potter had clued Cedric in on the first challenge being dragons. He was more worried now with the danger of trying to defeat a dragon now hanging around his neck. It was the three of you discussing strategy and possibilities in the empty library, just to take advantage of the silence. 

Cedric currently resided with his head thrown down onto the table while you sorted through books and Elle took a list of bad and good ideas. You tried to dedicate your full attention to helping Cedric figure out a strategy, but your mind was betraying your loyalty with thoughts of Draco, until you gave in. You thought about what had happened with Moody and the answer was then staring you in the face, suffocating you. 

“Bait,” you sprung up from your seat and the others jumped at your sudden declaration, slightly terrified by your leap. 

“What do you mean ‘bait’?” Cedric asked, dragging an exhaustedly stressed palm down his face. 

“Bait!” you exclaimed, victoriously again. “You’re defeating a dragon! We’re bloody idiots for not seeing it sooner! What does the dragon want?” 

“Most likely? Ced’s head on a silver platter,” Elle nudged the boy sitting beside her with her elbow and Cedric shoved her right back, so hard she fell from her seat and bounced down upon the ground. 

“Not helping, you daft dum--” Cedric taunted in reply. Elle squeaked when she landed, bobbing back upon her feet and glaring down at Cedric who smirked proudly.

“Diggory!” you interrupted his insult, fingers dragging along the spines of the books lined upon the right shelf. “You’re the buffoon! You obviously give it something it wants more than you!” Elle wasn’t following, instead she slumped back down into her seat. She made sure to hit him with her shoulder before she began scribbling lines through her bad ideas at your declaration. 

“I doubt they’d allow me to bring the dragon a meal as a peace offering,” Cedric retorted, a sarcastic sting in his words. You plucked the correct book from the shelf and used it to whack him over the head. 

“Don’t be so foolish! Listen to me,” you dropped the book upon his head and let the pages turn until it flashed onto the correct spell. “Moody gave you the answer just this morning; transfiguration! It’s perfect!” Cedric examined the open pages, piecing in the direction you were going and hopping up onto his feet with the book still open in his hands. 

“Do we often forget to remind you you’re a genius?” Cedric cheered, throwing his arms around you gratefully. You agreed of course, you were clearly the brilliant one among the group. As if. The three of you practiced the chant a number of times until he finally mastered it. It had been something every student was taught first year, but he hadn’t used much Transfiguration since.

Just half an hour remaining before Cedric was expected to report to the Champions’ tent and you could not have been more worried. You were on the verge of terrified tears, begging Cedric not to go while you and Elle rested upon his bed in the boys dormitory. He was changing into the outfit he was provided for the first task, yellow silk looking quite charming on his handsome, pale features. Elle painted her own face with two golden stars for Cedric, one on each cheek, and then turned towards you. You tried to hold still, but your nerves had you fumbling with absolutely everything you could get your hands on. She decorated your cheeks with bright yellow paint, little stars accompanying a ‘C’ on your left cheek and a ‘D’ on the other. You didn’t care enough to look. He argued with you both, neither of you comfortable with sending your best friend into an arena to face a bloody dragon. Yet, Cedric’s bravery gave you hope, you knew his determination better than anyone in the world, but it was still scary. Elle found clothes in his closet for you both, tossing his Hufflepuff Quidditch jersey towards you and stealing his yellow knit sweater for herself. You felt as if you had the most crushing weight upon your shoulders for hours, ever since waking up really. 

The clouds had covered the sun, blanketing the sky in a gloomy gray you observed tentatively while you and Elle escorted Cedric to the tent. He was the first there, so you both peeked your head in and tried to say your goodbyes-for-now. The words were so hard to speak because of how anxious you were. The Durmstrang advisor and Viktor were the next to enter, the older of the pair glaring at you for being there while Viktor minded his own. Elle was still star-struck by the Russian boy's beauty, ogling about him from your side as you embraced Cedric and begged him to be careful. You knew he could do it, there was not a doubt in your bones, but you were still nervous. 

And with good reason; it was a bloody DRAGON. 

“You’re going to hold onto that for me, princess. I will see you again once I have slayed the damning dragon,” Cedric joked, kissing your forehead and securing his scarf around your neck, reassuring you to trust him. You did. More than anyone you’d ever met, possibly more than your own parents. Fleur Delacour was next, Elle whispering that you had to go before you were caught in the tent by the Headmaster or Mister Crouch. Elle hugged Cedric and told him she would see him soon, she wished him good luck and you envied how easy she made it out to be. 

“Watch her for me, alright?” Cedric asked, causing you to gush back into his arms and squeeze him a last time, right before Elle dragged you out into the stands. 

Elle shoved her way through the crowds of students to reunite with the Hufflepuffs and others in Diggory’s fan section. Zacharias had decorated his face entirely with yellow, as had the other guys who wrote ‘Diggory’ upon their foreheads in red marker. You were glad you trusted Elle with your own paint, proud to wear your cheer for Cedric upon your face. And his scarf. 

“Any bets? Come on,” your head turned at the sound of the Weasleys hollering through the rows of students while carrying a case full of wagers. You couldn’t help but laugh, catching George’s gaze the second you spun around. He muttered something to Fred who rolled his eyes and took a bet from another student, then George maneuvered sloppily through the seats to reach you. You needed a hug and he could read the worry from your face, pulling your tiny frame to his own tightly. You felt safe, a bit of the weight on your shoulders relieving with his embrace. 

“You look like a wretched nightmare, love,” George teased, holding you close to him. You nuzzled into his shoulder, laughing along with him. It was hard to laugh in a time as stressed like this as you were, but his arms made it much easier. His remark nearly earned him a foot stomping, but he was right. He was also being a wisecracking, witless wonder wearing a goofy snow-hat. Fred called him back before you could really talk, George sighing defeatedly at his brother’s beckoning. “He’ll be fine, you know he will, darling Huffle,” George kissed your knuckles and then rushed back to help his brother with the bets. You grinned happily watching him skip away, his warmth still lingering his comfort near. 

Elle was fixing the name on Zacharias' forehead when the cannon sounded, announcing the first contender was about to step into the arena. At the same time a metallic unlatching rang through the air, silencing the commotion from all the students. It was a cage that had been unlocked, freeing the beast that stalked into rocks below. You held your breath and Elle’s hand shot down to grasp yours while her other hand clutched the life out of Zacharias'. You didn’t know much about dragons, but it’s sage scales and mossy forest skin was no comparison to it’s snarl bearing rows of razor rigid teeth. 

Their aim was for the holy grail, a golden, oval object residing in the dragon’s protection. You were captivated by the way it moved, so much so that you didn’t notice Cedric stepping into the stadium until it roared out flames that burned even your cheeks. You wanted to rush the ridge of the stadium, the others cheering and trying to bark instructions as Cedric dove into the safety of a rock. He shielded his body and found the right angle to draw his wand. 

“You can do it, Diggory!” you screamed as loud as your lungs would let you. A beam casted from his wand when he welded it forward quickly to a rock across the pit. Your heart hiccupped watching the stone transform into a shaggy-haired Labrador, knowing it was about to be used for Cedric’s advantage and the dragon’s distraction. To your subtle surprise, the dragon turned when the dog began to bark and yip, doing exactly what Cedric hoped it would to buy him time. The dragon’s loud, thundering steps hauled him to chase the dog in the opposite direction. Cedric peeked his head out and you watched in absolute horror, Cedric gauging the steps between him, the golden egg, and the backside of the dragon. 

Cedric went for it. He dove with everything he had, lunging over the rocks and seizing the golden egg. He wasn’t fast enough. The dragon had caught him out of the corner of her eye and screeched out more flames to swallow him. 

“Ced!” you shrieked to get his attention, alerting him to look up and fling himself back into safety behind the rocks. You heard the metallic clicking jerking the dragon back into her cage, but didn’t watch as it was locked back in it’s cage. You were already down into the first row, unknowingly still holding Elle’s hand and unintentionally dragging her down with you. She stumbled, yanking Zacharias along as well until all three of you pressed yourselves into the railing separating you from the rocks. 

“Cedric!” you called again, unable to see him properly from this angle. You didn’t know which of the instructors had made it to him first, but he handed over his egg and stumbled to his feet, clutching the side of his face. Everyone was yelling over one another, a Professor you were too alarmed to focus on helping Cedric along. He promised he would be alright and now he looked hurt. Students were cheering loudly because he was victorious in the first task, but it was all noise. 

“He’s okay, it’s probably just a scratch or something,” Zacharias tried to calm you both down, but you and Elle watched him disappear back into the champion’s tent and lost your minds. Your skittish stare finally fell to your side. 

“We have to get him to Madam Pomfrey,” Elle nodded at your urgency, both of you as pale as the ghosts that roamed the Hogwarts hallways. 

“I’m sure they’re already having someone--” Zacharias attempted to ease back in, but it didn’t matter. You were both already gone, climbing through the lines of seats to reach the nearest exit, chaotically. You really were not in control of your own limbs and definitely should not have been the one leading Elle. 

You were almost there when you slipped, your foot not properly angled fully on the step that had you almost falling down the entire section. If not for a hand on the rim of your waist that caught you just in time, your hand shooting down to support yourself upon a shoulder. Elle slipped, but she didn’t fall as bad as she would have if you plummeted down the bleachers. You glanced down to find the source that happened to reinstate your balance correctly on the final step up. 

That was a mistake. You felt it immediately, but with how tense your body was, it was no surprise that the usual sparks enlightened your body as much as they normally had. Draco wasn’t meeting your stare down at him, rising to his feet through the elegant fabric of an entirely fitting black attire, fancy garments for such a grime game; odd. You begged him to meet your gaze, your hand still resting upon his shoulder and his hand on your waist, lingering momentarily after he’d helped you back onto your feet. You were breathing again, sharp inhales and deep exhales unwinding the composure back into your body. Once Elle was stable on the next step, she glanced down to see what your hold up was and gagged to herself. She set her hands upon your shoulders and tore you free, glaring daggers down at Draco while heaving you passed him so you could carry on with your need to reach Cedric. 

Headmaster Dumbledore was booming his voice loudly over the entire stadium, explaining Cedric had been successful with a record time of completion! Neither of you stopped until you reached the tent, groaning echoing remotely from a bench in the corner where a small crowd of adults had formed. 

“Cedric!” Elle and you gasped in unison, excusing yourselves while prying through the crowd to reveal Cedric in the center. He was now holding a garnet-stained cloth to the same side of his face, head fallen back in pain. Everyone was confused at your sudden inclusion, pushing through to fall at your friend’s side. 

“They can escort the boy to our caretaker, Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Snape’s voice declared as he entered as well, narrowing his eyes to focus on yours. You nodded, sending him a quick glance of gratitude and then proceeding to get Cedric up from his seat. You and Elle tucked yourselves under each of his arms and helped him back to the castle, Madam Pomfrey met you at the entrance with her calming elixir in hand for Cedric’s discomfort. Elle helped him drink, the kind woman leading you both back to the hospital unit where you laid Cedric upon an empty cot. 

She removed the cloth and revealed the fresh burns scorching the side of his face in a scarlet scorn. He groaned in pain and you sunk to your knees beside him while Elle assisted with Pomfrey at gathering the correct remedies of a healing paste. You held his hand and he gave yours a squeeze, groaning out the words, “it looks worse than it feels.”

You shook your head through a cry. “That’s because she already gave you something for the pain, you tosspot.” Cedric tried to grin, but he only winced at the pressure. You hushed him, squeezing his hand tightly as directed by Madam Pomfrey, who explained the concoction would sting momentarily. She applied the pomade and like she said it would, his face twisted in pain and he grasped your hand harsher. 

He relaxed once she applied the fresh bandages, Elle lugging a chair over to join you. You congratulated him, laughing among yourselves about the task and how close he’d gotten to being a barbecue himself. Madam Pomfrey insisted he get a few hours of rest so that his face could heal fully and you both took your leave, returning to Hufflepuff rather than going back down to watch the remainder of the task. You’d had enough dragons for one day. 

Elle painted your nails, exuberantly more excited than you appeared to be for your date in the morning. She insisted on the symbolic sanguine of your house, polishing your fingernails with a shiny honey color, rifling through your closet and then her own to pick out your outfit. 

You hadn’t even given it this much thought, actually surprised she didn’t seem so shocked when you told her. Her reaction felt rehearsed and fake, strangely so, but not enough to raise real concern. Elle’s fashion expertise never failed you. She’d thrown a handful of items at you from her closet and your own and instructed you exactly how to pair them. When you’d changed and presented her the outfit, she was in awe. She spun you to the mirror and you could tell why. 

She’d chosen a thin, white wool sweater with the absolute softest touch and pale brown buttons, it had the absolute softest touch. She’d given you a dark golden dress to pair it with, single thread straps and a bow tied in the back. The hem of the dress stopped right before your mid-thigh, but due to the weather, she’d also included a pair of white leggings to match the sweater. You admitted she was a genius while she forced you to try on a dozen different slippers until settling upon a pair of short, tawny russet booties with white lace ribbons as shoelaces. She explained they were new, never even worn by her and saved for a special occasion. You tried to decline and talk her out of wasting them on you, but she insisted relentlessly and you had to agree they looked absolutely perfect. She was an angel.

Just like that, you were beyond ecstatic for your date at first light with George Weasley. 

Saturday Sunshine 

You woke to Elle bouncing in a frenzy upon your bed, nearly sending you over the edge at the disruption. Your eyes were still sleepy, barely making out Elle’s figure as she hopped hectically through your sheets. She was saying something, but you were still half asleep. 

“Elle!” you scowled, pressing your back into the headboard behind you and trying to rub the exhausted, tiresome toll from your eyes. She was loud, a singing tone chorusing through her throat in an incoherent melody. You glanced to the window, glass revealing just the faintest aura of tangerine twists visible on the horizon, it was just a few hours after dawn and the sun hadn’t properly risen on the skyline. Elle grabbed your face in her hands, a lively energy about her person at the slightest sight of sunrise. What the hell was so--

“He’s here!” Elle sang aloud, joyfully. She shook your face lightly in her hands in an attempt to wake you completely, impatiently towing you out of bed by your hand so fast you’d tripped a numerous amount of times. The entire English language did not make logical sense to you this early, practically still being asleep yourself. You tried to follow her, but your limbs were still tingling out the tiresome trudge. You were about to question again, but she tossed you inside the lavatory to change. “George! He’s here!” she exclaimed, stuffing the apparel into your arms with a sweet smile. Her words were becoming logically, your lips parting and a blush creeping to your cheeks at her testimony. You moved as briskly swift as your body would allow, discarding your sleepwear and quickly jumping into the new, clean clothes. The nerves bubbled in your gut, but it was mainly just jittery jumbles of impatient yearning. Elle smoothed the fabric, tying the bow behind you neatly and adjusting the natural waves of your hair tidily. She disappeared for a moment while you finished lacing the booties, returning with the small bag of her makeup essentials. 

“Elle--” you started to argue, but Elle’s hand on your arm silenced your sentiments. She pushed your shoulder down so you sat upon the sink, separating the strands from your facial features.

“Oh hush! Just a bit, trust me,” Elle instructed, giving your arm a soft squeeze. You groaned, but obliged. She moved nimbly, a bit of rosy blush upon your cheeks, gloss on your lips that accentuated the modest mahogany natural tint of your brims, and brushing a black wand through your eyelashes to bolden them. She grinned proudly once she finished, taking a step back to appreciate your appearance, swooning silently in place. 

“You look so--” Elle crooned as you rose, reflecting the grin on her lips with a last glance into the mirror. 

“Decent?” you interrupted, Elle’s hand whacking upon your shoulder, playfully. You steadied yourself with a hand upon the rim of the sink, inhaling sharply. “Am I supposed to be this nervous?” Elle shrugged from behind your shoulder. 

“Not sure,” she admitted, wrestling you free from the sink and shoving you off towards the stairs. “Go on! Get!” she giggled, excitedly. You took another deep breath, reminding yourself this was Just George, and then continuing gracefully down the steps. 

“There she is!” Cedric’s voice caroled from the common room, your eyes lighting up with the resignation it wasn’t George. You barely reached the bottom before arms threw around you and you were hoisted into the air by Cedric’s embrace. You laughed, his twirl of your frame granting you the sight of George leaning against the back of the sofa a few feet away. They’d been talking, you just now realized you had fallen asleep before Cedric returned last night, another glimpse around the Hufflepuff common room informing you they had celebrated. The boys did at least. Cups and other trash scattered across the floor, but that was not the most discerning revelation, it was the amount of face-down, snoring, limp bodies dressed the floor and furniture. You noticed Zacharias curled up on the table in the corner, an empty space on the sofa informing you Cedric had been asleep there. Other numerous bodies thrown this way and that, a strong bitter scent consuming you from Cedric’s sloppy embrace. 

“Cedric!” you cheered, hesitantly with a grin casted from George who shrugged at the mess. “You’re back, how are you?” you asked, grinning up at him while trying not to concern yourself so heavily with his lack of appropriate attire. You’d spent a countless number of nights with him, and to your guilty admission, you’d actually seen him in less than a tank and gold plaid pants. 

“Bright and shiny, practically brand new,” Cedric turned to let you examine his once scared skin. His cheek was soft again, you marveled happily, using your finger to thoroughly inspect his healed wounds. It was amazing, you wouldn’t even have known he’d just faced a dragon a few hours past. 

“She’s a wonder, that Madam Pomfrey,” you glanced up and caught sight of the golden egg, lodged in the chandelier. You rolled your eyes at the observation, Cedric’s ranting tone beginning. 

“She is, did you know--” Cedric was about to go off on a tangent about his time in the clinic, the guys surprising him with a secret celebration, and the mess, but was silenced by a shout from behind all of you. 

“No,” Elle declared, flooding down the steps with narrowed eyes at Cedric. “Nor does she care! She’s actually already got plans this morn, Cedric!” she butted him in the forehead with her palm and he chuckled, nodding his head at the notion. 

“Oh, right, right!” he seemed to recall, spinning around to gesture to George. “My apologies to you both.” He almost stumbled, causing you all to step forward just in case.

“It’s not a problem, mate. Are you alright?” George tilted his head, kicking himself up from the sofa and helping Cedric sit back down. You and Elle advanced. 

“Cedric--” you started, hand upon his shoulder to lean him back down into the comfort of the sofa. He was sotted and sleepy, not a great mix. 

“He’s fine!” Elle dropped to her knees beside him, staring you down. “I’ve got this! I’ll get them situated here, don’t you worry about it. Be gone, both of ya,” she turned to glare at George, who leaned forward and caught your fingers within his own, grinning gleefully. 

“Yes ma’am. I’ll see you in--” you followed him as he guided you towards the door, Elle cutting him off before he could finish.

“When I see you,” she corrected him, sounding as if she was covering for something that George was going to spill. Your suspicion picked up again, but George ushered you along. You stepped into the hallway and he stopped, his goofy grin lighting up his soft features.

“Good morning,” he presented warmly, pausing to draw you close to his chest. Why was he so bloody tall? You had to extend your neck completely to look up at him, a strawberry stain rich upon your cheeks. After that scene, you hadn’t properly had a chance to take him in and greet him this morning. His outfit entirely made your heart sink inside your chest, mainly because he just looked adorable. He wore a loose, maroon cotton sweater with small patterns and pale stripes infusing the soft fabric with shades of sage, deep indigo, and burnt orange. You didn’t mind the snag on the sleeve he was obviously trying to hide, simply throwing the longer sweater on with a pair of dark denim pants and worn sneakers. He combed his hair, it wasn’t the usual tousled mess of golden ginger locks; he was good-looking without even trying, but he had for you.

There was a small sway in your hands while they rested between your frames, his opposite hand falling upon your cheek as you smiled up at him, “good morning, Georgie.” His grin widened to reveal his shiny, chiffon charmers. “You’re looking very handsome this morning, but do you always rise with the sun? It’s barely morning.” George stroked his thumb over your cheek with a light chuckle. 

“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself,” George teased, your brow quirking in a gentle tug away at his commentary. He shook his head and took it back, along with you. He drew you back to his chest with a defeated huff, “you’re as beautiful as always, y/n. And of course, we have a very busy morning in store, most definitely.” His compliments carried your heart in a happy, reddened relinquish visible within your face. Charming jokester, he was. 

“Oh? And am I fortunate enough to know what we have planned in-store for us this morning?” you asked, leaning into his touch and even closer to his body. George sighed out a laugh, answering by dropping his head down to yours. You held your breath in your lungs, lashes fluttering close with his lips nearing yours. 

“Nope,” he breathed the syllable upon your bottom lips with a smirk, leaving you hanging completely as he took off again down the hall with your hands trailing behind him. You flushed with embarrassed dismission, actually upset you were toyed into a kiss you wanted to steal from his lips. You laughed, rolling your eyes while squeezing his hand and continuing to dance after him. He was on a mission that excluded you again, leading you through the castle, past the courtyard and into the fields. 

“George, where are we off to?” you pepped up from behind him, still following his tugging just a couple steps behind. You trudged through the grass, glad it hadn’t been so breezily chilly this morning. The sun helped, clouds parting to bless the grass with a rich warmth. 

“Come on,” George sighed from ahead of you. You rolled your eyes, starting to familiarize the direction you were heading down over the hill. 

“I am,” you answered, tilting your head and cursing your smaller feet. “Why are we heading towards the Quidditch pitch?” George groaned at another line of questioning, using your hand in his own to spin you around.

“Off with the questions, move your tiny feet,” George instructed, playful teasing on his lips while you spun around yourself and tried to regain your balance. 

“Hey--” you were cut short by your own squeal, bumping into George and immediately sending you both rolling down the hill. You thanked the heavens it was warm, stiff ground rather than dewey mud, but did not enjoy your toppling down as much as George did. The sound of his laughter was contagious, illuminating a joyous giggle from your lips while you both struggled to stop yourself from falling all the way down. George was falling faster than you, but you’d fallen first and somehow managed to drag him down with you. Your laughter spun in circles around you as George began to slow himself down, but not entirely before you came tumbling through him. His hands wrapped around you, the two of you floundering over one another in breathless fits of loud squeals and howling laughter. 

George managed to finally stop you once you’d just about reached the bottom, the rough patches of grass and sticks turning soft so suddenly when you landed with George hovering over you. You were both still stuck in uncontrollable laughter, breathless and groaning, but absolutely thrilled and anoint to the discomfort that came with plummeting almost the entire way down the steep hill. You were barely breathing as it was, finally accompanying yourself to the sight of George floating above you, one of his arms supported on the side of your head while the other hand perched at your opposite side. His long locks were practically falling into your face. 

“That was … entirely your fault,” he breathed out in laughing pants. You giggled wild gasps, peering up at him through laughing tears. He was so close it confined the air imprisoned in your lungs, his hand reaching down to brush his hair from your face and look more clearly upon you. 

“It… was, yeah,” you agreed, finally sighing out the words through a gentle inhale that became mainly his exhale passing through your brims. You watched his eyes flash lower than your orbs, the temptation of a perfect moment begging him to kiss you while he contemplated the closeness. You didn’t want to wait after his teasing gesture in the corridor outside of Hufflepuff, freeing your hand to cup his cheek and bring yourself up to his lips. You kissed him gently, catching his lips before he could react. The kiss was tender, ardently unfeigned and sincere, but harbored a distracting chasm of some truant absence you couldn’t explain. 

“Forgive my intrusion, I was not expecting you both to roll in so soon,” you both pulled apart, George sitting up to face Ginny’s squeamishly smiling features. You brought yourself up into a seated position as well, head bowed and an embarrassed red in your cheeks. You finally looked around, noticing what you had rolled onto coincidentally was a blanket, a small woven basket resting just at the opposite end. With a glance forward, you caught sight of the new and improved Quidditch pitch, shrubs almost twice as tall as you and still growing. “Don’t glout at me, I thought I still had a few minutes to set up,” she warned George with an extended digit. George was scowling at her from where he sat beside you, interrupting his moment and catching you both briefly snogging. Ginny helped, your pulse pranced into flattered nerves, sinking deeper beside George. “I’m going!” she professed under George’s obvious stare. “Hello, y/n! It’s great to see you, you look--” Ginny exclaimed, George tossing his head back dramatically.

“Ginny!” George called out, shaking his head through disappointment while Ginny jumped into slow retreating. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m going,” she nodded, giggling to herself and casting you a small wave as you tried to hide behind George’s shoulder. “Have a good morning, lovebirds.”

“Thank you for that, Gin!” you cheered after her, aiding in her laughter when she spun around and began to skip back up the hill towards the castle. 

“See ya!” Ginny hollered happily, disappearing over the top of the rise. George kicked his feet up and leaned backwards to address you. 

“I apologize for her, she is--” George began an apology, but you tilted your frame forward to nudge his head as it fell upon your shoulder, his entire body seeming to cave into your seating. 

“No, Ginny’s sweet,” you amended his suggestion, his genuine grin congruent with the agreeable bob of his golden mane. He’d only admitted it to Ginny a handful of times, but he was fortunate to get at least one sister out of his parents, even if she was the baby. He would dread what wicked ideas and ghastly suggestions would come about his brothers if he'd dare ask for their help when it came to girls. Ron was almost as bad as Fred, but neither were as awful as Percy. He’d missed out on attending Hogwarts with Charlie and Bill, quite sensibly the only Wealsey boys who were actually successful when it came to women. You took in the sight, shaking your head at the effort he’d put into a dream date. You thought he was a romantic before, you were severely underestimating him. He was not just a romantic, with your own astonishment, the noble Gryffindor brother, George Weasley was a poet and a hopeless romantic. “What have you gone and done with all of this?” 

George propped himself forward and dragged the basket between both of you. “I didn't know what you would like best, so that bratty, bum sister of mine helped me think of a few ideas. Hold onto your trousers, dear lady, we've got snacks and sweets, paints, and the endless opportunities blessed upon us by the great mother nature,” George proclaimed, enthusiastically. He began to pull objects from the inside of the basket as it rested in the space separating you, fruits and sweeties like he’d said, but then he tossed a palette of watercolors at you. You caught it in your lap, your smile beaming brighter while running your hand along the case of novel watercolors. You’d drifted off in such a warm smile, mind exploding with the notion he'd done this for you. He'd actually gone out of his way to plan out things you'd like, packing treats and yearning to spend time with you in a more private setting. "I think we could both use a break from Pince's shushing every two seconds.”

You giggled in agreement, brushing your strands out from your face to catch his gaze fairly. “George, this is all so wonderful, but you didn’t need to do all of this for me--” you tried to explain, truly appreciating all of it, but not needing more than time with him to be happy. George waved his hand, dismissing your gratefulness. 

“I know, darling. I wanted to,” George intervened, cutting you off by clarifying his intentions. He reached his hand to your cheek, stroking his thumb gently over your skin. “I happened to enjoy our last painting session.” You laughed, bowing your head down into his touch. His hands weren’t soft, but the tender caress of his calloused palm was lovely. It made you feel better, knowing he wasn’t burdened to plan any of this, with the additional help from his sister who just came down to add finishing touches.

“Oh no,” you moved your own hand to cover his as it rested upon your cheek. “It’s been weeks and I’ve still failed at getting all of the paint out of my clothes.”

“Great times,” George sighed at the memory, fighting with paint getting out of hand and eventually leading you to kissing him suddenly. It was a fond memory George often guilted himself to, “just be glad it’s off your skin.”

You dropped his hand and he let it fall simply from your cheek and onto the fabric of the blanket betwixt you. “You should have warned me, this is a nice outfit and Elle will kill both of us if it gets even a drop of paint on it,” you added, sweeping out the folds on the dress. George mimicked your actions, smirking to himself and allowing his hand to rest atop your knee.

“I’m sure we could disrobe and paint, but--” he teased, earning a slap on his shoulder. 

“George!” you reddened immediately, giggle torn amidst your denial. He shrugged a shoulder, as if offering and your laughter loudened, using your palm to shove him backwards. He only fell backwards for a moment, popping back up into a seated position almost twice as close. 

“All jokes, l/n. I happened to bring canvas’ for this very occasion as well,” he removed white panels from the woven basket as well. “Just don’t tell Sprout I was snooping through her art supplies, it’s like she’s trying to hide them in the greenhouse.” You took one into your hand and turned it, sure to reveal the small Herbology sprout etched into the wooden frame outlining the canvas.

“Stealing from Snape and Sprout?” you challenged a brow in disapproval. George quickly lunged over and flipped the board back around, like the gesture would rewind time so you didn’t detect the symbol. Almost as if he hadn’t just admitted it himself. Sometimes, you would figure George Weasley had his head screwed on wrong, but laughed at the stumbling sign. 

“Not exactly,” he shrugged a shoulder in response. “I fully intend to return Sprout’s supplies, even if we improve her canvases. I’m sure she’d appreciate some dead birds.” 

“George, you goofy goon,” you declared through offended laughter, shoving his shoulder again. Him and your butterflies. You weren’t about to boast about your artistic fortunes, but your doodles were transparent enough to understand they were actually butterflies, and not ‘dead birds’ like George had insisted repeatedly. George chuckled himself, reclining backwards on his forearms, your hints of joking dropping into a serious inquiry. “You know that is not what I was referring to.” 

George groaned, “you’re still hung up on ol’ Snape’s stores? I was betting on you forgetting by now.” You didn’t react, only widening your eyes to signal him to proceed. George yanked up his head and groaned dramatically once more. “Fine. We weren’t stealing anything, we were returning what had been swiped.” Your face puzzled into pieces of perplexity at his statement, brows furrowed together in confusion. They hadn’t been stealing?

“What do you mean?” you asked, canting forward to grab his hand and hoist him back into a seated position so you could read his features for answers. He didn’t help much in sitting up, really having you exert a great deal of force in pulling him towards you. George shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hands down into his lap. 

“Through no fault of our own, Fred and I discovered where Seamus’ acquired Veritaserum from for that night with Diggory. The foolish git was too scared to return it himself,” George spelled out, honestly. You knew he looked like he was up to no good that night, all skittish and off, what was he thinking? You agreed with him being a foolish git, he was dense for choosing to steal from Snape in the first place, but unbelievable insane for going about it alone. 

“Seamus stole it from Snape’s stores that night?” you speculated, tilt in your head while blinking up at him. 

“He did,” George nodded. “He promised us it was a one time thing, we made sure he knew he would be dealing with the both of us if we found out he’d gone back to Snape’s stores.” You believed him, raising your chin with a smile, delighted admiration in the realization George did it for Seamus. 

“You returned it for him?” you muttered marvelously. George nodded, broadening his chest proudly. 

“Seamus is one of us, he was just a dumb boy trying to show off,” he replied, still enjoying the praise that came with the duty to help a fellow Gryffindor. George poked your nose, “we’re thinking he’s got a thing for your girl, Elle.”

“Seamus and Elle?” you scoffed in disbelief, but George’s serious gaze informed you he was quite earnest in the suggestion. “She’d be flattered, I’m sure,” you lied through an affirmative nod, forcing yourself to bite down upon the inside of your cheek to silence the laughter that threatened your throat. Sure, Elle liked boys, she’d liked many, actually, but Seamus… She would be flattered, but he’d drive her mad. She was a princess with very little patience, and even smaller tolerance for folly foolishness. Even so, you would encourage Seamus with all of his endeavors as long as they continued to keep Fred and George out of trouble. You hoped he’d learned his lesson, knowing you weren’t probably the best person to offer warnings when it came to the Weasleys. Yet, you knew Gryffindor was perfect for them with their constant testaments of bravery, chivalry, and determination.

He saved Seamus’ and risked expulsion in doing so. He was a gentleman in more accounts than one, escorting you to the hospital wing for the sake of his heart and his caring qualities. And after the announcement that your best-friend was in love with you, he stayed and actually helped you rekindle that friendship rather than draw you away out of his own fear. 

“There is one more thing,” George proclaimed after a moment. “Come here,” he insisted, inviting you closer. You obliged happily, either expecting him to embrace your lips or begin wrestling, there was never any way to tell what he was up to. George dug inside the pocket of his jeans, humming out the words, “to absolutely no one’s surprise, most of Snape’s experimental brews happen to be poisonous, but there is one that he’d spoken of a few terms ago. Something that could alter whatever was so dipped inside into a new object, entirely replacing the old with a purely transformed silver core. We may have borrowed it as well…” you tried to listen, his voice faintly fading into your eager awe. You were entranced, watching him remove a shiny silver object from his pocket and present it to you. It was a necklace, the string was muted tawny twine, but it was the center charm that magnetized your fascinated entrancement. It was a swallowtail monarch butterfly, you recognized the silver shading. 

“George, it’s…” you started, hand pressed to your chest to try and catch a breath. It was absolutely divine, heavenly stunning as if crafted by jewelry goddesses themselves. 

“I know, it’s not a dead bird, but your doodles sometimes remind me of a butterfly,” George sighed, jokingly defeated. You narrowed your eyes momentarily and his lips barely had time to frown along with his joke, immediately tugging back into a goofy grin. You reached out to run your fingertip across the charm, still riveting over the unmeasurable artistry. 

“I don’t know what to say. It’s remarkably beautiful, truly,” you whispered in allured amazement. George inched forward, twisting the twine between his fingers. 

“Then don’t say anything. Let me,” you twirled your hair and spun around to present him the back of your neck. He tied it securely, fingers lingering warmly upon your skin before you spun back around to face him. You glanced down at the butterfly hanging from your neck, completely graced by it’s vision once on. You returned your gaze gratefully to George and he was grinning, genuinely. “Happy Birthday, y/n.” 

You beamed brilliantly back at him, again nearly on the verge of ecstatically graceful tears. “Thank you, Georgie,” you exhaled gently, tossing the basket aside to bring yourself to your knees closer to him. You cupped his hands in your cheek, using the advantage of being on your knees and him on his rear to let your lips fall flat upon his own. You kissed him deeply, as beholdedly thankful as you could symbolize in a kiss. You scowled yourself for almost crying, absolutely annoyed with your emotions. Had you forgotten your birthday? No, not entirely. You never wished to make a big deal out of the day, lucky enough this year it had fallen upon a weekend to at least not have classes. You didn’t even like Cedric and Elle doing something every year, you really wished you could ignore it since the prior day was Cedric’s mighty completion of the first task. You weren’t even sure how exactly George knew, but the gesture was wonderful. You loved it. 

You'd begun painting, bathing in buoyant conversation while soaking in the sunshine and ignoring the fall breeze. You couldn't exactly backtrack when you'd laid down upon your stomach, surely it was just for the better angle it gave you while painting. George had laid upon your lower back, hoisting his canvas over his head and painting in the air instead. You'd thought it was odd and teased him for it, but he threatened to spill paint over your dress and you silenced immediately, but not without jabbing his shoulder playfully.

"Ready?" he'd quirked after another few moments, letting his canvas fall upon his chest and fingers dart out to the small bowl of grapes resting beside you. The second you met his goofy gaze right back over your shoulder, George sent you a wink that had even the wrackspurts in your head acting up. You followed his fingers down where they plucked a grape from the bowl and then sprung forward to allow you to scrunch and roll into a seated position. Both of your movements were so quick and ready, neither of you really calculated the closeness as you seemed to roll into his lap with your legs folded under you. George, on the other hand, did not even acknowledge it as an issue, his lanky legs stretched under your knees. “You first,” he declared, little warning in tossing a grape that required you to dive under and still managed to miss. You were awful at this little game of his, grape coordination very flawed. He didn’t let you recover, finding the grape that bounced a few inches inches away on the blanket and tossing it again. This time, he changed his angle and went higher rather than lower. “You’ve got it, you’ve got it,” he encouraged, cheerily. You bent backwards, but George watched the grape ricochet off your forehead and nearly disappear elsewhere. If not for his finger darted off to catch it with an invisible reach, using magic to catch it in the air and draw it back to his palm. “You’re quite horrendous at this game,” he sighed in a jokingly disappointed tone.

“And you’re a natural?” you scoffed, plucking the grape from his palm and insensibly throwing it at his nose. George was quicker, to your surprise, tilting his head backwards after it hit his nose and crowning his head to the side to dip it just right to catch the grape between his teeth. You scrunched your nose in disapproval while George smirked with the grape presented proudly between his pearls. Cocky bastard, he was a natural. “Impressive,” you narrowed your eyes, squishing the air between your fingers and bursting out into giggles when the grape exploded in his mouth at your command. George almost choked, but managed to swallow the explosion. 

“Very funny, you’re just jealous, I am a natural. I’m a Weasley, we’re great at everything,” George shot back, confident crane of his chin upwards. You huffed to yourself, George continuing, “and yes I refuse to let you win even on your Birthday.” 

You dropped another grape into your mouth, “I am not jealous, it’s grapes— If anything, you’re purposely messing up my throws.” George gasped, dramatically offended while stuffing the small bowl of grapes to your chest. He was flooding to his feet fast, adjusting his sweater with a few flaky steps back. 

“Here, line me up,” he instructed, positioning himself readily a few feet away. 

“Ready?” you asked, cocking a brow towards him while tossing a grape in your palm. He nodded and you were off, one at a time but right after the other, making George dance to catch all of them spurring in different directions and alternating angles. He twisted and twirled effortlessly, not letting a single grape fall to the floor. You admitted, it was slightly splendid to watch. You clapped, leaving a couple of stragglers still in the bowl while George chewed and bowed. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he announced, adding to the theatrics with a comedic chime of condescension. George was never egotistically full of himself, but could play the part patronizingly well, even though he would usually break out into laughter or crack a smile. You hollered flattering cheers and praise, applauding his “skill”.

“Bravo, bravo,” you lulled ridiculously, watching George’s short attention span drift towards the hedges towering off to the side. In the hour or two you’d already been there, they looked like they had actually grown an inch or two taller. From the look of pleased triumph still on George’s features while he studied them, he was intrigued and you were worried. “George, no--”

“I have not even said anything yet,” George grinned guilefully, bowing beside you to take your hands and drag you spontaneously to your feet. You stood with him, though hesitantly, George took your hand and led you closer to observe the shrubs. 

“I can tell by the look on your face,” you claimed, pulling you both to a stop just a few feet from what appeared to be the entrance. The look of tempting collusion worried you, both of your hands enclosing his own to get him to stop beside you. “You know we’re not supposed to be going anywhere near the hedges.” 

“No one will know if we steal a peek,” George spared you a short glance down, grin growing into riveted fascination. “Rumor has it this will be the last of the Triwizard tasks. Hagrid’s working on growing them another dozen feet tall.” You had heard something similar, yet you tended to avoid any Triwizard talk because it just happened to make you more anxious. George was still captivated, spacing up while inspecting all visible angles of the gangling bushes, you figured he was so inattentive that there was a chance you could slowly start to steer him backwards. 

“Fortunately, as it is, neither of us are Triwizard Champions, Georgie,” you clarified, stepping around him to attempt to interrupt his enthralling draw closer. You weren’t sure what it was with him, but for you, the mossy shrubs glowered a sullen veil of dreadful, agitated anxiety you couldn’t explain. Sure, it was beautiful from a distance, but the closer you drew near, the more troubling it became, as if the sky had gotten darker and gloomier with every step. 

“And the shrubs know that?” George taunted teasingly, a wiggle of his brow down at you. He squeezed your hand and moved around you, “I’m guessing the green won’t go barking to Dumbledore because we stole a brief glimpse inside. Unless you’re scared?” 

You lied, “I’m not scared of shrubbery, George. I simply don’t trust the Tournament enough to believe it’s just a wondrous garden display.” You pulled him back to your side before he could maneuver around you to reach the shrubs, inching a tread back.

“Nonsense,” George chuckled, finding amusement in your concern. “The whispers say it’s a maze, really only one way to know for sure. What do you say?” You shook your head so fast, refusing to allow him to properly pronounce his question. 

“I say it’s foolish and we will undoubtedly get into trouble-- George!” your response was diminished by George quickly dropping your hand and making diligently persistent strides forward. You lunged for him, catching his fingers right before he could cross into the plants. George spun back towards you, using your hold on him to ignore your hold and advance into the bushes backwards. You surrendered your hold on his hand rather than getting dragged in along with him, still lingering about just the edge. 

“Come on, Huffle! Show some Gryffindor bravery!” George cheered enthusiastically, light-hearted and eager to proceed deeper. He didn’t want to leave you, but his steps further in carried him away. “I’ll wager I will reach the center before you even enter!” You didn’t want him to be alone inside, nor did you want to be on your own on the outside. George was enticing you with rivalry, tempting you with wagered contest while imploring you to follow. 

“Oh, shove off, Weasley. It’s not bravery, it’s stupidity,” you declared with a defeated huff, unwrapping the violet mauve ribbon around your left wrist to tie your hair back. “Besides, you may be a natural in grapes, I happen to enjoy puzzles,” you watched his grin widen as he turned and disappeared around a corner a few feet away the moment you stepped through the narrow opening. 

Your excitement flourished with remote fear, but you eased yourself on the focus of reaching the center of the pitch before George. You dove through the first opening in the opposite direction of George, your hand dragging along the leaves and guiding you deeper into the maze. “Come on, gorgeous! I’m practically half way there, I don't plan on waiting forever for you!” George hollered his playful ridiculing over the bushy towers, seeming to be farther than you anticipated. You followed faster, an anxious skip in your step that hastened into following the turns and folds, the sky actually seeming more dusky and granting more darkness on the poor angles of the maze. It had felt like you were running blindly for miles with no luck. 

Your anxiety was up, but the panic sparked the moment you turned another corner and stumbled into a path the second the shrubs seemed to shift. The maze was changing and you were losing all ability to breathe and walk properly. You begged yourself to calm down, knowing it was truly your own unruly nerves that had your mind playing tricks on you, but the strange rustle in the leaves around you made your skin crawl and pulse plunge. You were seeing blurry shapes, heart racing with the terrifying shrink of your surroundings folding in on you. You couldn’t scream for George, weight crushing your lungs while attempting to backtrack your way to the entrance; you just wanted to get out as fast as possible. You reached for your wand that you had tucked into the slip of your dress right betwixt your arm and the angle of your bust, but it was flat and you immediately recalled tucking it into the safety of the basket on the outside when you and George began painting. Air was becoming thin, a storm of flames barricaded inside your lungs causing you to trip over your own feet. But, it wasn’t your feet, twigs had spawned through the dirt and forced you to tumble. You registered the pain, but you didn’t have enough to pull yourself up from the dirt path. You were hyperventilating, out of all air and failing to remember how it was you could breathe. Your nails dug desperately into the dirt while you forced yourself onto your back, trying to widen your lungs and welcome in air that seemed to simply suffocate you deeper into the cold ground. You were panicking irrationally, bloody imagining that twigs and vines had entrapped your ankles and begun wining up your legs and between your digits. You could only see the clouds, dark charcoal pillows becoming blurry darkness within your gasps. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move anymore, you were just gasping hopelessly, each gasp becoming shorter and weaker from your lips.

Then, there was a warmth suddenly at your side, collapsed beside you with a hand over your heart that ignited a consummating inferno in your veins, erupting with seraphic solace that lulled you into darkness. You were not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, an awful way to end a chapter but I hope it has you excited for the next! My goal is to write the reader with the rest of the movies, but as you know, that is a lot of movies and a lot of writing that I would love to do for myself and those who would like to read. Draco deserved a redemption, as did a few others I want to write. Please keep in mind this is a fanfiction, so it is not exactly executed the way that JKR wrote hers. As always, I love you so much and appreciate you more than anything! Let me know your thoughts! See you soon :)


	13. Humble-Bee Huffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has happened at the maze, but you are not alone. The maze is just this morning. The day has begun with some secretive suspicion, it might as well end the same. Can you figure out what the ploy is before sunset?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to Chapter 13! This chapter is late, and I am sorry if it's awful, I don't have much time to edit and review, but I hope you can tolerate it! Enjoy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Draco had been strolling back and forth through the corridors all morning, before the sun even rose. He didn’t sleep much, which was partially because of his reluctant desires being unfulfilled entirely by the girl from Beauxbatons; he still was not certain if it was Clarisse or Chantel. In truth, it could have been a dozen other names he didn’t care to learn. She was a blonde beauty, that was all he needed to get right. He’d made the mistake of getting her confused with the other Beauxbatons a few times, but she continued to venture into his quarters late at night. She was a good lay, he could grant her that, as dull and mediocre as she was. She talked, he didn’t understand any of it, nor was he candidly listening. Draco got bored anytime she opened her mouth without him being in it. She stayed in his bed, he didn’t. He wanted to be as far from her as soon as he was done with her, and when he returned, she was already gone. It was a system that worked for him, less time having to deal with her when he was not purposely flaunting her about the castle. 

He didn’t see much of you and it wore heavily on him, yet he refused to recognize it. When he did see you, he realized that damned, ginger weasel had to be near. Draco began to realize the tension between you and the other Hufflepuffs, including his distant disgrace of his shameful cousin Annissabellenia, a mouthful of absolute revulsion that girl was. He observed the scenes as they progressed at super, watching you file in after they’d already found their usual seats. Only, you lingered towards the opposite end and just sunk into the crowded table. You didn’t speak or seem interested in any of their conversation and Draco took pride in your outcasting. It brought him humor, watching your affliction and division from your friends. Especially since you had begun to occupy the majority of your public persona atrociously with the Weasley boy. Malfoy was jaundiced in jealousy, pinning by repulsion in lieu of admittance. Draco discovered every lie and thread of disrespect as a reason to loathe you, he wanted to construct his inner walls with hate and cement it with disgust towards you, but was failing quite horrendously. He slept just barely enough to keep himself walking and showed no visible signs of exhaustion, spending his walks routinely surrounding Hufflepuff’s passageway. It was the only way he felt close to you without despising himself for yearning at all.

Yesterday, he had done everything in his power to reign resentment down upon Potter, it was one of few instances of content he’d felt in a long time. The badges were his pride and joy, dumping them to Zacharias earlier that morning and watching as he’d bring them over to you and Cedric. Draco smirked smugly at Cedric from across the room, making the three of you run out and the remainder of Huffles just as soon. Draco had watched you go, remaining in his seat with the Slytherin guys for another few moments before condemning them all to follow him into the courtyard as well. Draco had truthfully climbed into the tree to get a better angle of where you and the Hufflepuffs were in grass, tilting his head to peer through the leaves when he’d caught sight of Potter speaking with Cedric. He toyed with Potter once he approached, jumping down effortlessly from the tree and then having the chaotic atrocity of Professor Moody make a fool out of him at your benefit. Draco had already sent an owl with the message to his father, explaining the outrageous obscenity from the bloke failure of an auror like Moody. 

Draco joined the others that afternoon in the arena, eyes impatiently searching the crowd until he caught sight of you and Elle emerging from the Champion’s tent. He cringed at the yellow makeup with Cedric’s initials stained upon your soft cheeks, secretly admiring the venus grace of your presence as you floated through the stands until you reached Hufflepuff. Draco watched you from a distance, as usual, jaw tightening once he watched George spare you a hug and then run along. He didn’t care for the dragon as much as he was attentive to watching your reactions, following your sloppy exit strategy after Cedric limped away. You were on your way past Draco, and with the amount of worry on your features, it didn’t appear that you actually registered he was there, almost as much as you didn’t register the steps. He was there the split second he noticed you shift, hand shooting to your waist, instinctively. Draco granted himself a moment to linger, though he was not blessed with touching your bare skin, he was still able to permit himself to your warmth being so close. Neither of you said anything, silent entirely through the noise and loud cheers from the crowd, everything else was unimportant. Draco didn’t dare look at you immediately, figuring that the control of his desire was vastly unlikely. He was glad Elle pulled you away when she did, losing his fight with his urges to drag you back to his quarters immediately. Draco was also pleased none of the others seemed to notice the small encounter off to the side, the next competitor and dragon stepping into the rocks while you and Elle hurried away. 

That was the last time he’d seen you that day, sleeping with the Beauxbatons girl that night and taking a moment of slumber for himself, then finally beginning his walk at a later time that morning. Another place he often found himself was your spot, the small windowsill where you had shared your first kiss. He watched the sunrise here, still hating everything that this world had to offer until the sun peeked on the mountains and painted the sky. Why? The sunrise reminded him of you, the soft flushes of color that bled in your cheeks when you were approaching a climax, or losing your mind to your desires. He was at a destructive peace here, for a short time. 

Draco would rise, feet carrying him slowly and tediously back on his path through the halls. He had just appeared around the corner to pass the Hufflepuff house when the sound of the door opening caught him jumping back and stiffening to the stone wall. The first thing he heard was your laughter, his palms turning clammy at your laughter reverberating off the walls and through his core. He’d thrown his head upon the rock behind him, gritting his teeth when the next voice happened to be a Weasley. Draco listened to the conversing, retching to himself dramatically and then gazing around the corner to watch you and George disappear out the front entrance. He doted on your graceful appearance, purity in the pale white shades of deception, but still divinely infatuating. Draco gave it a second, and then followed after, stopping in the doorway to watch him pulling you by your hand up the hill towards the Quidditch patch. That was when Draco got the miserable idea, proceeding to Slytherin at the sight of the baby Weasley on her way into the castle.

Draco entered Slytherin, blowing off Crabbe and Goyle, and returning to his quarters to bathe and change. When he emerged, he permitted the Beauxbaton girl to locate him as she normally did. Draco told her he wanted air and as George did you, dragged her outside and around the opposite direction of the pitch. He didn’t care for the sickening sight of shrubbery grown so chaotically, it was embarrassing. She asked questions that he also ignored, uninterested in what she had to say but choosing to bring her along with the intent of making you just as jealous, even if yours was by Draco’s coincidence. They entered the weeds from another angle, walking this way and that until they both got bored and she had other plans in mind than some foolish maze. She kissed Draco’s neck and began to disrobe him in the middle of the maze, Draco didn’t argue or urge her on, not complaining but also only there because it was where you were. He tried to imagine she was you, but not even his own imagination could force that kind of connection. It was not the same pleasure, barely satisfactory. Draco heard voices, but she was so distracted by Draco. 

Charlotte moved to straddle Draco’s hips and Draco immediately felt the crushing sensation upon his chest. He knew something was wrong, his own fear causing him to toss her aside and lunge to his feet, sprinting through the twists and turns while trying to find the source. It wasn’t clear, a jumble inside of him that almost felt to be a magnet pried to a compass he desperately needed to locate. Draco didn’t know what was happening, but chose to surrender himself to the control of the connection, feet led by the intuition compelling him to find you. Draco panted, still weaving and shoving his way through the bushes until he heard the innate sound of muffled gasping. 

“Y/n,” he called your name once he'd become certain on hearing your gasps, maneuvering himself instantly in that direction. He slid to a halt once he nearly sprinted past a path where you laid virtually limp, drawing his wand at the sight of twigs sprouted from the dirt and twisting around your limbs. Your eyes were closed and his heart stopped, he shot out his wand while darting towards you, “reducto!” The vines snapped and tried to bury themselves back into the ground, Draco stomped on them before falling to your side. He collapsed to his knees beside you, shaky hand instinctively reaching out to rest upon your chest and beg for a beat beneath his palm. “Wake up, l/n. Come on, little puff, look at me,” he pleaded, brushing the stray strands from your face and turning your chin with his finger. He felt a weak beat and a sigh of relief fled from his brims, sinking down deeper. You looked so peaceful while unconscious, a small scratch of dirt upon your cheek, but still not enough to flaw your features. “You’re okay, love,” Draco breathed in a thankful admission just under his breath, scooping you cautiously into cradled arms and holding you close to his chest. Draco didn’t know a thing about the maze, he wasn’t great at games or puzzles of strategy, but knew he needed to get you out. He listened to his own path and to his own amazement, he saw light leading him out into the cloudy fields. 

Of course, Weasley was sappy enough to bring a blanket, and a basket? What a plain fool. Draco laid you upon the blanket and hesitated there beside you, impatiently awaiting your awakening. Beneath the surface, he was anxious and afraid, every half-second longer you took, the more he believed the worst. Draco succumbed to his own restlessness, closing his eyes and triggering everything inside of him just as Snape and you had shown him to reinstate the mind tether. He broke the vow, straining himself to you and mentally uttering, ‘come back.’ 

You shot up like you’d just risen from the dead or you were on fire, gasping aloud and coughing to clear your airways. Draco appeared closer to your shoulder, unconvinced it would work until you actually jolted up. You pressed a hand to your chest, surprised to be alive, awake, outside of the maze, and beside Draco Malfoy. 

“Malfoy?” you breathed, eyes widening at the sight of him. You realized it had been his voice in your head that got you back into your body, lighting up all of your nerves to return you to reality. “How?” you asked through thin breathes, a thousand questions rattling through your mind. When? How? Why? 

“Are you alright?” Draco avoided your question, inspecting the angles of your complexion to determine whether or not he needed to rush you to the hospital. Calm down, do you feel well? You furrowed your brows, glancing down at your own body. You didn’t know, nor did you realize his voice was not spoken, but echoed inside. You twisted out your hands, twirling your neck and shimmering your shoulders, you went to kick your legs and the slightest movement of your ankle had you wincing sharply. “Is it your ankle? Don’t move it so fast,” Draco suggested, scooting himself down towards your foot instead. He carefully began to unlace your booties, but you squirmed at the pressure.

“It’s just sore-- I’m fine, really,” you argued, attempting to pull yourself from Draco’s grasp. Again, he ignored your words and removed your shoe, causing you to wince harder and groan, pressing your hands tighter to the ground under you. Draco scoffed, shaking his head while inching your sock down a bit and the hem of your tights up to reveal your ankle. “What happened?” you asked, still trying to read his features. 

“What do you remember?” Draco asked, dragging his finger delicately across the soft, red skin of your ankle. Involuntarily, you drowned deeper into his hold, the pain ceasing at his touch and replacing with tender soothing that flickered ease through your veins again. You were igniting at the connection of your skin, Draco’s unintentional linger informing you he too felt the reluctant reaction exploding beneath the surface. You could have broken every bone in your body, but the warmth radiating through the gentle caress of his bare, solemn fingertip was an comfortable, cleansing cure. Though he wasn’t actually healing the forming wound, his touch spread through your skin and numbed the twinges of pain simply by touch.

You tore your gaze away, pulling your ankle from his grasp, painfully. What the hell were you thinking? You were getting lost in the bond again, how barbaric. You tried to remember, the weight returning to your chest. “I…” your voice trailed off in hesitation, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “You’re going to think I’m mad,” you stated, trying to keep your focus down upon your ankle rather than unite with his stare.

‘Doesn’t matter much if I already think that, love,’ Draco’s voice taunted inside your head. You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers into your temple. He was back, eyes flashing up to catch the corners of his lips in an upwards curve. He was fighting to prevent a rightful smirk, voice solely audible through the inner walls of your cranium. You were already irritated, Draco settling opposite from you. 

“You vowed,” you pointed out, a ding of disappointment drawn in your words. Draco snickered at your obvious comment, rolling his eyes. 

“I saved you,” he retorted, causing you to force your foot back into your bootie and muffle a whimper at the aching agony. Draco watched in reflected discomfort, the expressions of hurt crossing your features afflicting him as well. “Will you stop that?” 

“I passed out,” you corrected him, slowly tying the laces back into a neat, shaky bow. “I would have been fine-- I am fine!” You were lying, the pain was not yet severe, but it was difficult to ignore.

Draco shifted, tearing his eyes away from your misery for his own sake. You were relentlessly defiant and it was vexing. “You would have preferred me letting the twigs take you?” he offered a toying brow. “Maybe you should have listened to the professors’ instructions to stay away from the pitch.”

You mirrored the questionable quirk of a brow, “and you’re here why?” Draco tried to formulate an excuse, the true nature of your question not enforced. “Why did you help me?” you asked him, forwardly. Draco hated you, you thought the imminent threat of your death would grant him gratification beyond his wildest dreams. You were a burden upon his life, as was this bond that made you both respond irrationally. If he had seen you in peril, you would wager upon his instinct to walk the other way. 

Draco was listening, impatient dismay peeved in his features. He sat forward, “contrary to your own thoughts, your death would not please me.” Your eyes widened, realizing your thoughts were not undisclosed nor privileged to only you anymore. He’d breached the barrier in order to find you and to bring you back from unconsciousness, but you weren’t exactly eager to detach. Draco didn’t want you dead? How sweet.

“So you have a hero complex now?” you pondered, trying to understand what it was that had Draco coming to your aid when you needed him. To your surprise, Draco was now squirming under your questioning, vulnerability visible in his unframed posture. You welcomed yourself to his vulnerability, finally acknowledging that the floodgate had broken for both of you, which meant his thoughts were not privileged either. It was odd and fazing, the urge to want to grant yourself access to his intimate accords. The only answer his mind could produce was counter to what his words admitted; ‘for you, I suppose.’

“Call it what you want, I saved your ass, little puff. A ‘thank you’ would suffice,” Draco huffed in an aggravated sneer, oblivious to the notion he’d already confessed his truth just by thinking it. Though it didn’t make sense, it did make your stomach twist in uneasy hesitation that could have been mistaken for bastardly butterflies in addition to the hiccup of your heartbeat. He did it for you; but why? You both despised one another. You sighed aloud, tilting your head to catch his gaze for just a moment of genuinity. 

“Thank you, Draco,” you whispered, a soft smile cascaded upon your brims to match with the blushing blaze brightening your cheeks. Draco’s eyes weren’t hard or skeptical, if you had truly lost your mind (like it felt you had), you would have sworn they were kind. The forced smile became sincere, ruby roses exploding in fiery flushes fighting to flood your cheeks. It was something about his damned eyes, the cerulean oceans pooling in his condemning crystals that made the entire world mute. You didn’t remember the past or recall any of the events that just happened, you just felt him. Draco sat just a foot or so away, but it was still too far. You wanted him near, the pleasure of his mere presence enough to have you suffocating and yearning for that attachment back. What were you thinking? You wrenched your eyes free, extorting yourself back into your skin and swallowing the lump in your throat that pined heinously for him. “Like I said, I wouldn’t have needed it,” you clarified, a surprising chuckle emitting from Draco’s throat while he shook his head. You looked over while a sigh passed through his brims, his gaze still embracing your features with a crown of his head in your direction.

“So stubborn,” he breathed, the words blessing your ears with the rousing roll of words from his tongue. You were really trying to fixate on keeping him out, adorning yourself to the reality that this was Draco Malfoy, the same boy who continued to hurt you, but it wasn’t working. He grinned and everything was ancient history, you were falling into his lap all over again. Draco gestured down to your ankle, still partially revealed at the tip of your bootie. “It looks bruised, there is a chance you may have twisted it, but it doesn’t look broken. You should still visit Pomfrey as soon as possible.”

You bowed your head, a slight smile rose to your lips, jokingly expressing your gratitude, “thank you, Doctor Draco.” You moved to tuck your pant leg down, trying to ease your ankle cautiously back down. “What were you doing here?”

“Just taking my usual morning stroll--” Draco started to excuse himself, both of your attention being torn from one another when the sound of gentle calling came from the bushes. The real world was returning. 

“Draco! Dra-- Oh! There you are, beau, you left me--” Charlotte stepped out from the bushes, still adjusting the buttons of her blouse as you scuttered further from Draco. Your jaw clenched, hand raking through your hair and desperately trying to ignore the regretful stare from Draco. How could you be so bloody foolish? Here you sat, letting yourself fall into his ploy all over again, and the only reason he was here happened to be fixing her blouse and pulling leaves from blonde hair. Charlotte turned towards you, just barely remembering your meeting. She floated over, cheerfully stood behind Draco with a hand extended down over his shoulder. “Oh, puggle, right?”

You yanked your head up, brows knitted together at her question. “Excuse me-- Oh, Hufflepuff, yes. Y/n, it’s nice to see you again, Charlotte,” you greeted her, trying not to grit your teeth distastefully. It was nothing about her, she seemed just as sweet as last time, even if she did genuinely confuse the name of your house, it just happened to be the serpent she was accompanying herself to. Poor girl. You flashed her a forced, friendly smile just as another voice tore through the shrubs. Your forced smile spun sincere, a calming breath relieving itself through your lungs at the sight of George’s ginger locks bouncing as he jogged over. 

“Y/n!” he exclaimed, worriedly. He slowed seeing the others, eyes scorn to Draco’s seat opposite you. “Malfoy?” George scoffed in the frame of a question, finally kneeling to your side. “Are you alright?” he asked, hand rested upon your knee while peering over the folded hem of your pants that revealed raw, reddened and moderately bruising skin. His face was strung in a worrisome frown, inspecting the details of your features intensely.

You sat up straighter, trying to keep a tranquil expression. “Yes, I’m fine--” you tried to assure him, pausing in the midst with a perplexed ponder. You studied him discreetly once his knee hit the ground at your side, tilting your head to the dim disturbance in George's features, unnoticed previously but strangely identical to-- you'd been hoodwinked. You were proud of yourself for noticing, but lost as to what the absurdly embarrassing deception was. You groaned sadly at the revelation, shoulders shrinking with a troublesome glare up at him. “Where has he gone, Freddie?” 

“Did you hit your head in there?” Fred fabled, wit incomparable to evident trickery. Did they plan this just to make a fool out of you? Had it always just been a game to them? You gave Fred due credit for his will to stay true to the charade, the faux confusion torn in his furrowed brows played into the dedication of portraying his twin. You partially considered suggesting a gig in theater rather than his wheeze works, if not for how obviously unconvinced upon his attempt you were. He tried to laugh it off but your eyes narrowed, daring him to try and convince you he was George when he hadn't even discarded the bright red under tee sticking out of the sweater's collar. If you had to guess, it was poorly planned and they'd just swapped the sweater. 

Little did you know, George had turned that corner in the maze, waited until you got deeper, and then simply emerged back through the entrance as Fred was jogging down the hill to take his place inside the bushes. Fred relinquished the high mount of his head, letting it descend in defeat with a miserable groan. “What was my tell?” Fred sighed, admitting into the loss. You reached up and used the edge of your pinky tip to draw down the curve of Fred's nose. He chuckled, shaking his head, embarrassedly. Draco was just as confused, being forgotten in the exchange. Fred patted his hand on your knee, "damned my brother's flawed face. Obviously his looks could not have been as perfect as my own, so I can't blame you for being apparent to the better-looking twin.”

You rolled your eyes, giving his nose a playful and most-deserving flick. “You may be twins, but you don’t fool everyone with the switch-a-roo gimmicks, Freddie. Where did he sneak off to?” you asked again, recognizing the shift that embellished his hesitation to conjure more stinging swindles. More excuses seemed probable to leave his lips.

“It was my turn to take over, he was needed back… somewhere,” Fred evaded, the pause in his words keeping himself from exposing too much. Your eyes narrowed, his vague pretense not explaining any of George’s whereabouts or intent of disappearing.

“What are you not telling--” you tried to question him further, but your words were interrupted by Draco clearing his throat and rising to his feet. He was bored of your bickering, unclear which Weasley this actually was, not that he was the slightest bit interested in the deceptive tactics. You fought to hold back an eye roll at Draco’s disruption.

“She’s hurt her ankle. I will bring her to Pomfrey,” Draco extended a hand down to you and you nearly broke out into laughter at the gesture, saved in a timely manner by Fred.

“You will?” Fred humored in disbelief, eyes wide and skeptical of the Slytherin treasure. “Don’t trouble yourself, Malfoy, I’ve got her.” Fred mirrored Draco’s invitation, popping up to peppy feet and offering his hand for support. 

“I can walk,” you dismissed both of their bidding, Fred laughing at your declaration and Draco gritting his teeth. You tried to stand with an even amount of pressure on both feet, but that was a flawed idea since the moment you put the slightest dime of weight upon your bad ankle, you stumbled. Draco and Fred exchanged a subtle glare that nearly went unnoticed when they both eagerly flocked to your sides to help you balance. You barely noticed, welcoming and honestly needing all the help you could get in order to not fall on your face with this second attempt. 

“Sure you can,” Draco snapped, irked annoyance fueling his hands into fists at his sides. You didn’t grant him the pleasure of earning a reaction out of you, tongue curling while strategically attempting to figure your best posture. Fred chuckled at your side, trying to angle himself differently to aid in your support.

“Maybe try rolling?” Fred teased, catching your gaze with a hint of hopeful hilarity in that infamous Weasley grin. You smiled back, a soft giggle emitting from your lips with a toss back of your head. You wondered if there was ever an instance when they couldn’t find a joke. Even with your instability, you declined Draco's attempt at assisting you to your feet, using Fred's arm to try and stable yourself on your good foot. That was another bad idea, the Weasley Wonder towering feet above you and nearly sending you off-balance all over again, if not for Draco's hands upon your opposite side. 

Seeing you teeter, Draco instinctively reached out to prevent you from tumbling to your rear and quite possibly hurting your ankle even worse. In that second, your only concern was not irrationally reacting to his hold, you honestly could not have cared about falling as much as you wanted to ignore the sensation of his handsy grasp you inadvertently tugged out of. "This is helpless. You're a bloody giant compared to her. Let me carry her--" Draco tried to persuade you out of Fred's side, but you stifled closer and muffled another gasp with a slight step onto your bad foot. Draco glared at you and you didn't cower, glaring back and extending your hand around Fred's shoulder while he gravitated downwards and hunched over to your convenience. 

“Thank you for offering, Malfoy, but I really should since this is a fraction of my fault,” Fred’s furrowed brows relaxed with a hand propped around your backside. Draco did not take well to Fred’s light-hearted response, sarcastically thanking him for the odd offer.

“A fraction?” Draco sneered, threatening a step forward you limped to meet before he could advance. You instinctively reached a hand to his, Draco’s daggers still burning into Fred’s bemusement. Draco’s hand was cold, which was not surprising considering the bitter breeze that had taken way as afternoon approached, but it was only warmth that welcomed your touch. You could refrain from conceding to the dastardly delight deluged in your veins from willingly reaching out to him, but your immediate impulse was to calm the situation down. You could feel the crossed anger diffusing from him, not sure if it was because of the extent of your connection to him, or if everyone could feel the tension. 

“Draco,” you whispered a warning, begging him to calm down and actually stunning in place when his fists unraveled, obediently. Draco’s glare seemed to soften once it eased down upon you, a step ushered back by his polished loafers. He was relinquishing control on his temper, no doubt because of your willful defiance to Draco’s desires to handle your wellbeing. What reason did Draco have to act so… possessive? You ripped your gaze from his own along with your hand, returning your attention to Fred. “Freddie, my wand, please? It’s in the basket,” you requested, allowing your posture to straighten on your own. Fred assured you were stable without his help and moved towards the basket, but not fast enough. 

‘I’m hurt you didn’t ask me love, I happen to be right beside it,’ Draco’s voice ridiculed in your head at the same time he darted a hand towards the basket, who was actually closer. He removed your wand from the basket, looping it around his fingers with allured amusement, before dancing it over his knuckles and then presenting it towards you. You glared, but accepted it swiftly and tucked it back into the line of your dress.

Fred returned to your side, confused by the gesture demonstrated by Draco. It was rare to witness a deed that was done with no selfish motive, you were sure there was more to him helping you in the maze than the goodness of his supposed nonexistent heart. “Nice and easy, sweetheart,” Fred instructed, helping you sling your arm back over his shoulder and truly taking all of your balance onto his own frame with his hand tucked supportively around your backside. You were able to keep off your foot entirely thanks to Fred’s help and even though you were upset with both of them, you appreciated having him here and saving you from solely dealing with Draco. You would have rather rolled like Freddie had suggested than tolerate Draco, rolling had been quite fun with George. 

Before either of you could start limping back towards the castle, you turned to Draco and Charlotte. "We're good here. You both have a great day," you tried to be nice, at least for Charlotte's sake, but your words still came off sour. Draco helped you, but was only in the maze because he was in the heat of things with another girl. Did he expect a medal and a blessing from the heavens because he coincidentally reached you before you laid there because you were unconscious and either would have been found by Fred or hopefully woken up eventually? You weren't aware of the twigs and vines that tried stealing you away at the time he found you. In all honesty, he had saved you, but Draco decided to leave that part out. Why? Because he thought heroism was a weakness. You willed yourself out of your head, hobbling along the hill with Fred, addressing the boy through stiffened winces. “Where is he, Fred? Why has he run off on me?” You didn’t want to appear distressed or hurt with George’s actions, but he had not only disappeared, he and Fred staged this deceptive ploy and you felt reasonably entitled to answers. 

Fred didn’t return your requesting stare, dropping his head in defeat that matched a sigh as you walked. “It’s not his fault, we’ll see him soon. Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet right now, don’t worry about that bloke brother of mine,” Fred’s tone was still cheerful and sarcastically-witted. Before you could object to vague excuses that really didn’t answer your questions, Fred rather cleverly chose to change the topic. “What happened with Malfoy?” 

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly, barely allowing Fred to finish his question before covering it up. You followed with fumbling fables, irrationally making an effort to excuse yourself, “I must have fainted in the maze… He helped me out. That is all.” Fred wasn’t content with that excuse, which was rather ironic considering his amount of imprecision and your own was extremely similar. 

“Why would Malfoy--?” Fred began to ask, but you interrupted, missing an opportunity to step on his foot and fairly hurt yourself further. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged swiftly, looping him right back into the debate on what was going on with George. “Can you let me in on his secret now, Freddie?” 

Fred shook his head in reply, reaching the height of the hill and slowing your pace as to not have you both toppling over. He was obviously the more balanced of the twins, since you and George had fallen down the hill the first time. You limped leisurely most of the way back to the castle, small talk exchanged, which was actually just back and forth bickering with Fred, urging him to spill the secrets about his brother's whereabouts. Fred didn't give, just kept repeating that he would find George once he got you to the castle. 

Madam Pomfrey was alarmed to have visitors so early, especially since she'd seen you not too long ago with the opposite Weasley boy. Fred rid himself of the sweater, casually slipping his frame free of the wool and giving his hair a free tousle once Pomfrey had gotten you settled into a cot. “Will you be alright on your own for a few?” Fred asked sincerely, tossing his sweater over his shoulder and begging you to trust him in a wide smile that so easily mirrored George's own goofy grin. You dismissed him with a happy sigh, shrugging your shoulders and wiggling your fingers to shoo him from the clinic wing. Fred's grin grew and he quickly bent down and pressed a kiss into your hair, and then disappeared out the door. 

You were only alone with Pomfrey for a couple moments while she healed your ankle, about to make small talk when the door slammed ajar and George sprinted in. He was still in the process of getting the sweater fully onto his person, tugging the hem over his long torso, as if Fred hadn't told him you figured it out. You rolled your eyes, thanking Pomfrey for her healing and wobbling onto a still fuzzy ankle. She instructed you to take it slow, George appearing worriedly and eagerly at your side. You accepted his arm solely because you needed it, still upset with him over the entire debacle. He had a million questions, but you ignored him, still struggling to step fully upon your healing leg. 

"Where did you vanish off to?" you asked, silencing his rampage of requests and sending him into a panicked frenzy trying to find an excuse. You nodded your head at his inability to reply honestly, pulling your hand free and attempting to maneuver the corridor back to Hufflepuff without him. You clung to the wall in the hall, George immediately trailing right behind you. 

"Oh come on, you're going to hurt yourself. Pomfrey just told you to take it easy. Not listening to authority figures? Am I really becoming that much of a bad influence? I should be proud, but--" George tried to kid, but you were not in the greatest joking mood after his abandonment sham. 

"Are you going to tell me the truth or not, George?" you asked, spinning around to face him properly. "You and your brother are not the wisest wizards, why did you leave me--?" George drew a hand down to cup your cheek once he'd separated a strand from your eyes, cutting off your accusation. 

"I did not leave you--" he fumbled hearing you laugh and almost losing your face when you tugged away, unamused by his blatant lie. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I did leave you, but it is not like that." You stayed below him, secretly enjoying the comfort of his touch, still awaiting his further explanation. 

"What is it like then? I asked for the truth, Georgie," you continued, his eyes flickering down momentarily to your lips and then to the butterfly pendant that hung from the twine around your neck. George slid his fingers from your cheek to where it hung proudly upon the center of your collar. 

"Do you trust me, darling Huffle?" he sighed, gaze flashing back up to your own with a soft smile. You gave in, a single nod of your head that granted him leeway to continue. "Accept my apology, and try to reckon it was a decent reason," he grinned, leaning down to press his lips upon your nose, leaving a peck on the bridge. You blushed, shaking your head and, for reasons beyond your wildest imagination, letting it go. 

"You're not off the hook," you interrupted his early celebration and he agreed. He shifted his shoulder and you caught sight of the strap slung across his back. "Is that my bag?" George let the tote fall and presented it to you. 

"Very well, I'll just have to make it up to you. I'm glad you asked because it most certainly is," you accepted the bag from George. Your head tilted in confuddlement, brows knitted unsure of the weight in what appeared to be a stuffed bag. 

"What is this?" you asked, moving to open the bag but stopped by George's hand patting the top. 

"Not yet! It's a surprise. Along with this one, which is gladly right on time--" he grinned straight past you. You didn’t get a chance to turn around fully, immediately engulfed into a heavy hug.

“There she is," Ginny exclaimed from behind you, followed by Neville and Dean Thomas. Your eyes lit up happily seeing them. Ginny greeted you with a sudden, snug embrace, swaying you back and forth tightly to her tiny frame, glancing back to where you’d both just emerged from.

"Fred said you drove her mad, I didn't think this was what he meant," Ginny commented, teasing George who had managed to swipe the bag from your grasp just as Ginny hauled you into a hug. You laughed, trying to ignore the blossoming blush in your cheeks, returning Ginny's hug and offering the boys a polite smile. They both grinned back, Neville even raising his hand to send you a friendly wave.. 

"Ginny, nice to see you again! Hey Neville, Dean!" you greeted them all, finally pulling back to meet Ginny's excited eyes. She spun around to grab an object Neville was hiding around his side and then offered it out to you with a cheerful giggle. 

"Happy Birthday, y/n!" Ginny gifted you with a small pot with aconite flowers sprouting from the dirt. You beamed brightly down at the gift, your favorite flowers flooding the ceramic planter. Ginny squeezed your shoulders and you bowed your head, glaring slightly just over your shoulder to where George stood, trying to space off at the wall, innocently. 

"Thank you, Gin! Aconites, how did you know?" Ginny glimpsed backwards, strangely at the same time George and Dean both casted their attention to where Neville stood, dallying with his fingers and slightly flustered from the attention. 

"We hadn't a clue what to get you," Dean stepped in, throwing his arm inclusively around Neville's slightly taller shoulders and breaking him free from his discomfort. 

"Precisely! Thank you for saving us, Neville!" Ginny agreed, nodding her head while you handed the plant to George, who poked the leaves, unamused-like. 

"Thank you, Neville! I love them very much," you offered outstretched hands, still hesitant on what Neville was comfortable with. You knew others were not fond of touching, but being a Hufflepuff, your language was all handsy embraces; but you were getting better at understanding not everyone enjoyed hugs and snugs. You were relieved when Neville stalked forward from Dean Thomas, meeting him halfway and gently hugging the taller boy close. "I had totally forgotten I'd mentioned the acunites! Very sweet of you, Neville," you admitted once freeing the shy, shaggy-haired Gryffindor. He was blushing again, as were you, just delighted with everything from their company to the flowers, glancing back over to Ginny and Dean. "Honestly, none of you needed to get me anything. I'm just happy to see you all--" your sentiments were silenced by a dramatic groan from George, who slung your tote over Ginny's shoulder and plopped the small planter back in your palm. 

"Okay, okay, Humble-bee Huffle! She loves it, but it was unnecessary-- Anyways, if you are all set," he nodded to his sister, Ginny looping her arm through your own and giving her elder brother a thumbs-up. George bobbed his head, glorious ginger locks bouncing with his head. "Great! So, I will see you, very soon," George didn't care that his little sister and your friends were watching, he turned your face with a hand cupped upon your cheek and pecked your lips briefly. You returned his kiss, but froze just as he pulled away and started to disappear, darting down the corridor while waving at the group. "See you later, little lions!" 

Ginny's eyes almost popped out of her head, Dean and Neville exchanged a slightly stumped glance before chuckling to themselves. You rolled your eyes at all of them, nudging Ginny's side. "Little lions?" you asked, tilting your head towards the others for clarification. Ginny pulled you the opposite direction, all of you falling into step beside one another.

"Don't try to change the topic so fast, y/n!" Ginny puffed peppily. You didn’t know what to say, not even sure what it was that was actually going on between you and her older brother. 

"Little lions; just George's way of teasing us because we're lowerclassmen Gryffindors," Neville cleared up your previous question, explaining the joke hidden in George’s goofy nicknames.

"Let's go back to the George part! When? How? I knew he fancied you, but--" Ginny was speaking fast, you weren’t even sure she was breathing with the words clattering speedily from her lips. Dean interrupted her, reaching out a hand to stop her from getting even more carried away.

"Let her breathe, Ginny!" Dean chuckled, prodding the smaller girl with his elbow. Ginny moved to nudge him back and you leaned forward to grin at him, trapping the girl to your side. 

"Thank you, Dean! I'm sure you should want to be the last one wanting to hear sappy details about your brother," you agreed, raising a contentious brow to Ginny, whose face curled into a grimace, agreeing. 

"Good point. Please keep it to yourself, that and your lips,” Ginny requested, cringe recoiling in a nauseous shiver. You were about to argue when Dean chimed in. 

"She's got that right," Dean stated in approval of Ginny’s notions. You were passing corridors and climbing stairs to reach Gryffindor house, side-by-side with the group.

"Dean, what the heck? I thought we were on the same page," you gasped, peering over Ginny’s gratified grin to where Dean shoved his hands up, innocently. 

"On the contrary, I want no part in the page of public displays,” Dean confirmed, causing you to tilt your gaze to Neville at your other side.

"Neville?" you questioned. Neville had originally tried to stay out of the conversation, sinking into his own steps when you called attention upon him.

Neville shook his head, quickly. "Oh no, I don't want any say in this conversation, I will settle for Switzerland and 'aye' to change the subject," Neville declared, one hand raised while you all exchanged a glance and then nodded, also throwing up a palm.

"Aye," the three of you chanted in unison, chuckles erupting loudly while Ginny led you in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. You joined the golden trio inside, greeting them while they sat around the dormant fireplace. Ron offered you a handful of pretzels the moment you sat down, in addition to the 'happy birthdays' that bounced off of them like dominoes. You thanked them all and accepting the kind snacks from Ron, joining in their pondering discussion over the golden egg resting in the center of the circle. You offered your congratulations to Harry, apologizing that you couldn't be in attendance but congratulating him on what you heard was a marvelously victorious defeat. It was rumored that the destruction on the far tower was thanks to Harry and the Horntail. 

You passed the afternoon with the Gryffindors, actually enjoying your time among them with little boredom. They were great distractions from something George and the others seemed to be keeping from you, leaving your mind to wander to the worst possibilities. Gasps illuminated through the group that had moved from the Common Room and into the boy’s dormitory. You and Ron split a bag of chips from his bed, Harry Seamus, and Dean sorting through their stuff, Neville was on the floor beside his own bed, flipping through a new book. You were eager to borrow it from him, once he was finished, of course. Ginny and Hermione reclined opposite Ron’s bed. You’d asked a dozen times about what they were planning, but they all avoided the question and fumbled to change topics. Ginny and Hermione had shared discreet chatting about you George, silenced by you chucking a pillow across the room and unintentionally ricocheting the plush off the back of Harry’s tousled mop of dark strands. Seeing your pillow bounce off Harry’s hair and drop the book from Neville’s hands had you sinking, guiltily into the bed frame.

“Hey!” Harry and Neville exclaimed, simultaneously darting their attention towards you. Ron stuffed chips in his mouth to muffle the laughter, grinning almost as mischievously as his brothers. To your surprise, it was Neville who picked the pillow from the ground and wielded it playfully back before you could even start to explain the accidental, though impressive, duel assault.

“Neville!” You gasped, ducking so that the pillow collided with Ron, throwing him off balance and toppling onto the floor. You slapped your hand over your mouth to prevent laughing harshly aloud, peeking over the edge of the bed to see Ron’s chips crumbled upon the floor. Neville jumped to his feet, realizing his mistake in horror that ruined Ron’s snacking.

“Ron—“ Neville tried to warn and apologize at the same time, but failed because Ron was shockingly faster. In a swift movement, he stole the pillow from behind you and Neville took off to try and hide behind Ginny. “Gin, please control your brother!” Neville pleaded, weaving Ron’s sister as a shield just as the pillow came hurling towards them.

“Ronald!” Ginny shouted, the pillow striking Ginny rather than Neville successfully. The whole room was ignited in cheerful, light-hearted laughter. Ron didn’t even apologize, still cleaning his crumbs from the floor by drizzling the floor-scraps into his mouth while you giggled at his gesture. He had to save every last crumb, distracted so that he didn’t notice Ginny lunging for another pillow and chucking it back towards her brother. You saw it coming and squealed, rolling off the bed and fumbling to avoid the pillow’s heave and catching yourself before slamming onto the ground.

Not long later, pillows were being launched and catapulted through the room in every which way. You had attempted to dive behind Hermione, who was preaching about not participating in such immature behavior. Which was until she got thumped in the head by a rogue pillow thrown by Dean, or maybe Seamus, most likely Harry by the way he cowered seeing Hermione’s face twist in shocked anger. Your shield vanished, Hermione set off recklessly trying to acquire and propel pillows towards everyone. You squeaked once she was gone, being bombarded by Ginny and you were pretty sure you’d been targeted and sabotaged by Ginny and Neville who had you backed into a corner, weapon-less.

You weren’t sure what pillow ripped open first, but before you knew it, white feathers were flying and floating through the air and kicked across the floor. Dean had given up and just began hurling handfuls of feathers towards Ginny, the two of them exchanging flirtatious giggling while you and Neville fought over the last good pillow. Ron had Harry pelted with feathers still leaking out of a ripped pillow, and you were just glad to see them back on speaking terms. Hermione was scowling Seamus who was trying to make snow-angels out of the feathers blanketing the floor.

When everything finally calmed down, you all made your way to the Great Hall to grab a bite to eat. None of you bothered pulling feathers from your hair or clothes, laughter leading you through the corridors and finally to get proper food. It was later in the afternoon, so the only people that truly remained in the Great Hall were stragglers finishing up. Neville had borrowed you a maroon cardigan, so you almost looked like a genuine Gryffindor among their group.

You were happy to be getting food, but not as happy as Ron, who almost rushed the table for scraps. You exchanged sweets with him at his request, big, begging, brilliant blues. You relaxed at their table, happily munching away while joining in on their conversation. With a glance around, you noticed none of the people you knew were around. There were Hufflepuffs, but nearly none that you’d considered close friends rather just being friendly: which was all in addition to the Weasley Wonders still missing.

‘One of these things do not belong with ghastly Gryffindor losers, I wonder which it would be’, your hand tightened around the fork in your fingers. Your entire frame stiffened to stone in your seat, attempting to appear unbothered entirely flawed. Draco’s voice was in your head, you hadn’t even realized he was here in the Great Hall. You were trying to bow your head so as to not call attention nor acknowledge him in the same room.

‘Passing time with friends, not that it’s any of your concern. Since you brought up losers, how are you and your snakes today, Malfoy? I guess you forget that Gryffindor happens to be holding the house cup for the fourth year in a row’, you flashed your eyes forward and found Draco seated in the corner of the Slytherin tables beside the others. You smirked at your comment, watching his taunting grin fall into a loathsome frown. It was nice seeing him upset after he intruded mentally.

You could hear Draco sigh in your head, it was disturbing. ‘Someone’s in a mood. What has got the privilege of twisting your panties, little puff?’ You shifted in your seat, failing to stay involved in the conversation happening around you. Hermione and the others were deep in conversation that had looped back around to the egg, rattling ideas off one another while arguing on whether or not to open it again. You weren’t paying attention.

‘You in my head, obviously. It’s awful,’ you sneered mentally. You tried to keep your gaze upon your friends, refusing to tempt yourself with watching his reaction as he studied you. Were they aware of his staring, did they acknowledge it or even notice? And his so-called friends?

‘Why do you care? I had thought the same about you. At first,’ Draco replied. You sunk into your seat, a soft and unintentional knit knotted between your brows. You tapped your fork upon the side of your plate, contemplating how to take his comment.

‘What changed?’ You asked, still demanding your eyes to blankly ponder down at your plate. Anything was better than meeting Draco’s intrusive inspection tables away.

‘You. It’s nice to hear what’s going through this pretty head of yours’, Draco teased. You bit your lip, ignoring the dryness of your throat that came with Draco’s snide, complimentary complaint. Focusing too much upon his words would lead you to thinking more about it, thoughts he could easily hear.

‘You promised. We should get the spell from Snape as soon as possible. I can’t survive with you nagging in my mind’, you stated, dragging hasty, hassled digits through your hair. You could practically see the disgust that came with his scoffing.

‘We?’ Draco shot, sarcastically. ‘You mean you don’t want to survive without me making your day so much more intriguing.’ You rolled your eyes, miserably tossing your fork onto the plate in front of you and sliding it across the table to Ron. Ron’s features brightened happily, his excited expression widening, sending you a thankful glance before chowing down. You grinned back, allowing him to remain in the current chewing-conversation with the others.

‘You’re an annoying arse, Draco Malfoy. This is a ‘we’-problem so we should handle it’, you clarified. Draco didn’t seem amused at your attempt to persuade him, the entire bond obviously an issue for both of you beyond the mind tether.

‘Do what you wish, I couldn’t care less’, Draco retorted, harshly. You clenched your jaw, teeth tightly grinding against one another while glaring down at the tabletop.

‘It takes two, like Snape had informed us both. If you’re not willing to return the barrier, leave me alone, Draco’, you snapped sternly, sanctioning yourself a subtle scowl from the corner of your eye. He was reclined, smugly relaxed on the shoulder of Charlotte, who had just recently sat down. He wanted you to look, smirking proudly back at you the moment your gaze met his own.

‘I would, especially since you ask so sweetly. However, I don’t tend to trouble myself with your wishes’, Draco snickered slyly. You were about to jump to your feet and march straight from the Great Hall to get yourself as far from him as possible.

Harry had taken to your subtle distractions, the look of you spacing out and getting lost in your own thoughts managed to catch his attention. Harry reached out and began to pluck the white feathers from your hair, pulling you back into reality with a chuckle. Harry grinned back at you, “are you alright?” You nodded, straightening your shoulders and forcing a content sigh.

“Yes, sorry. Just thinking,” you replied, a polite smile sent back towards the long-haired lad.

“Care to share?” Harry asked, raising a brow. You almost laughed, knowing how bizarre the truth would sound if spoken aloud.

‘Oh yes, saint disgrace Potter to the rescue! Might I trouble you with the brilliant man talking in my head. You’re mad for even considering it, sweetheart’, you gritted your teeth subtly at his sneering tone echoing inside.

‘You mean boy. Last I checked, this doesn’t concern you’, you shot right back, blocking him out and focusing solely on Harry. You were grateful for his concern and the fact the others were too wrapped up in other side conversations to really pay attention to you.

“Wondering why none of you will let me return to Hufflepuff,” you lied, formulating a valid excuse that caught the attention of Ginny and the rest. They seemed to exchange a secretive glance between them, as if you weren’t sitting right before them. “What are you all in on?” You scooted forward into the table, jerking your attention across all of their faces for any signs. None of them disclosed visual cues that could lead you to guess something.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied, ruffling out his hair from his face as Ron nudged his shoulder. It seemed like Harry would have been your best shot at getting the truth, but not with the others around. Could you get him alone long enough to pry the truth out of him?

“We can’t help you with that. How about a sweet?” Ron offered a bowl full of small chocolates and you giggled.

“Deal, Ron,” you leaned forward and accepted one of his candies, plopping it in your mouth and sharing a kind grin with the others.

‘I’m going to be sick’, Draco grimaced through the mind tether, almost sounding a repulsive gag at your friends, just being friendly. He’s so dramatic.

‘Then mind your own,’ you stated, glaring just past the head of your friends to catch Draco instead with his arm about Charlotte.

‘I would but it’s so honestly fun watching you squirm’, Draco snickered. ‘And apparently I’m not the only one with a staring problem, is that so, little puff?’ You furrowed your brows and immediately snapped your eyes back to the group, using your best forced smile to stay active in the new topic brought about by Hermione. The group was getting ready to head back, Ginny tapping her watch eagerly.

‘I glanced’, you excused yourself, rising from the table at the same time as the others and helping tidy up the table.

‘Going somewhere?’ Draco asked, overly interested in following you across the room. He was with another girl and still stalked you intensely, so much so it gathered a shy illness in your gut. You disappeared in the steps of the group on your way from the Great Hall.

‘Why do you care?’ you asked, prompting him with a quirked, questionable brow while exiting. You wished the bond could end with you gone, but hearing his voice without being in the same room haunted you. This was already irking you potently, you’d find Snape tomorrow whether or not Draco agreed. There had to be a way to get the barrier back without him.

‘I don’t’, Draco answered after a hesitation you noticed. You kept your thoughts to yourself, not gifting him another second of consideration and joining in playful bickering that came at calling out Ron for the handfuls of sweets stuffed secretly in his pocket. Ginny tossed her arm around you, realizing you’d gotten quieter in your time at lunch.

“You alright?” Ginny wondered verbally, dancing her fingers over your shoulder. You sighed a shrug from your shoulders, realizing the group was already walking in the direction of Gryffindor. If you were lucky, maybe you could manage a quick break back to Hufflepuff.

“Of course,” you lied, spinning yourself out of her arm and continuing. “You know, I actually haven’t seen Cedric and Elle all day and Cedric was looking rough this morning. Maybe I should go check on him back—“ you took one step in the opposite route to Hufflepuff and immediately, the entire group interfered. You didn’t know if it was Ginny or Neville that reached you first, but all of them were instantly enclosing you right back into the group.

“Not yet,” Ginny clasped her hands upon your shoulders, thanking Neville who had captured your plan to drift apart at the same time. She maneuvered you back into the right stride while you groaned, argumentatively. You gave up, allowing your feet to follow in her pathway and passing a playful glare at Neville while Ginny brought you back.

You were getting impatient, but but your tongue and let it go, a dramatic glance casted through a glimpse down the corridor to Hufflepuff. You proceeded with the others to Gryffindor, negotiating with Ron for another sweet to distract yourself. You had all sprawled out in the common room, evening approaching quicker with the sun threatening temptingly on the horizon that peaked through the window in the boy’s dormitory. You were sorting through Neville’s Herbology books with him, not even realizing Hermione and Ginny snuck out while Neville purposefully distracted you. You exchanged compliments about Herbology works, discussing projects in the making and new fun facts about plants. You were eager, trying to persuade Neville into finishing reading much faster.

“Y/n!” Ginny called from the hall, causing you to excuse yourself from Neville and return his belongings, neatly, and then tracking down her voice.

“Ginny?” you called right back for her once in the hall, stepping out and immediately being tugged into the nearest lavatory, blindly. It was Hermione who had trapped your hand and yanked you inside while Ginny slammed the door shut behind you.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You asked, stabilizing yourself on thrown feet while Ginny’s giddy giggles produced your tote from behind her back. “Is that my bag?” You asked, finally taking the bag back with a furrowed glance ricocheting from Ginny to Hermione.

“You’ve got to freshen up,” Ginny instructed, swiftly and full of sunny smiles. She’d done something different to her hair, and if you weren’t mistaken, there was a tad of pink pressed into her cheeks. You tossed the bag onto the floor.

“Why can’t I wear this?” You asked, gesturing down to your current outfit. Both girls exchanged a look you could only decipher as an unimpressed stab. You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest, exclaiming a bit offendedly, “Hey! Do I really look that bad?”

“No, not awful,” Hermione assured, Ginny stepping around you to retrieve the bag from the floor and force it back into your hands.

“It’s not our call,” Ginny clarified, only stirring more uncertainty and confusion in your expression.

“Who’s call was it, then?” You questioned, scrutinizing curiously through glances between Ginny and Hermione. Hermione appeared beside Ginny and sighed, pulling the contents from the tote’s opening with Ginny.

“No questions! Get dressed,” Ginny demanded, still in a thrilling tone. It looked like it was an entire new outfit, it’s extravagance only had one explanation: Elle. You were rolling your eyes when Hermione dropped a pair of heightened slippers beside the sink, casting you a hopeful smile before grabbing Ginny’s hand and slipping out of the room.

You took a step towards the dress and sighed defeatedly to yourself, running your fingers over the soft fabric. You could have argued, but there was an ounce of you that was, of course, entranced by the elegant gown. There was no harm done in just trying it on.

“Are you insane? This is Elle’s wretched work, I swear I’m going to wring tiny Tonks the next time I get my hands on her,” you groaned aloud, emerging from the girl’s lavatory in the skimpiest velvet dress. Of course, it was perfect because Elle had picked it out and tailored it herself with itty stitches here and there. She knew you too well. Hermione and Ginny were waiting for you just outside, both of their eyes irradiating amazedly the moment you stepped out in an uncomfortable presentation. You were still adjusting, the bust sewn too low and revealing an extra amount of curvy cleavage.

“Oh, you look lovely,” Hermione harmonized, offering a polite smile that was scoffed over by Ginny, who rushed to your side.

“No, you look bloody hot, y/n!” Ginny declared proudly, grabbing your hand and spinning you around to ogle over your entire frame. She could sound so much like her brother at times. Her praise helped your discomfort, jokingly twirling along with her with paralleled giggles.

“Nonsense,” you sighed, still pulling the hem down further over your bare thighs. “It is fall at Hogwarts, not summer in some rave.” Both girls laughed at your bad joke, Hermione swatting around your hand and stepping forward to even out the wrinkles of fabric.

“Ravishing to say the least,” Ginny tittered near your ear, twirling your curls tidily. You nudged her, pulling Hermione’s hands from you and squeezing them, gratefully.

“This is absurd! That girl has lost her mind to expect me to wear something like this in general, I’m all exposed,” you ranted, glancing down at your outfit. Elle’s life was fashion, she had dozens of favorite boutiques and shops across Europe. You knew her style, which made you nervous thinking she’d bought this purposely for you. Honestly, you’d just been thankful this one had long sleeves for you to fiddle with. Golden velvet fabric accentuating every elegant arch of your figure down to barely your mid-thigh. Ginny snapped her fingers in front of your face to crack your attention from the dress while Hermione trailed you by your hand down to the common room, where the boys were already waiting. It looked like they had all changed as well, which had you taking a second glance at Ginny and Hermione. How could you miss it? They both changed as well! What in the heavens was happening?

“Doesn’t our birthday girl look splendid?” Hermione probed, eyes narrowing to signal the boys to say something instead of staring with their mouths hanging open.

“You look great,” Harry cleared his throat, his voice cracking through the hang in his jaw. Your cheeks flushed with a gentle blush and Harry forced himself to throw someone else in the fire, spinning around to nudge Ron, who had just then glanced up from his shoes. “Doesn’t she, Ron?”

Ron’s eyes bulged, elbowing Harry with an awe parted in his lips. “Bloody hell,” Ron sighed, his brilliant blues bouncing up and across your figure. The group laughed at his stunned sentiment, soft eyes strung to watching you try to decide how to take his phrase.

“That would be a yes from this wanker,” Seamus chuckled, squeezing your shoulder while passing by with Dean and Neville behind him to join the others below. Ron glared, but Seamus clasped his hand upon his arm, jokingly. “You don’t look half bad.”

“It is! You look... very good,” Neville commented as well on his way down. You smiled back at him, bowing your head, gratefully. 

“Thank you both, but this is absolutely too much—” you shrugged a shoulder, still fiddling with the sleeves of your dress with a doubtfully tentative step backwards. 

“It’s perfect, you wouldn’t even know you were a Hufflepuff looking this boldly brilliant, darling” George emerged from the left staircase, causing a gallop of giggles to emit from your brims while you hurried over to meet him at the end of the staircase. He had changed too, no longer in the cozy sweater, instead, he wore a maroon button down with small white stripes under his Quidditch jacket, one side of his shirt neatly tucked into the waistband of dark denim and the other hung loosely about. His outfit was messy order, both casual and properly suitable for a gentleman like him. He also wore different sneakers with what appeared to be ash and dust scratched along the side. George grasped your hands in his own and twirled you around, astounded in admiration of your dolled-up appearance. He shrugged the jacket from his shoulders and flipped it across your shoulders, sheathing it closely in a poor attempt to hide the captivating curves contoured so profoundly perfect by this dress. “Your friend has got great taste—“ George started to compliment further, helping to release the strands that had been tucked into the collar when Fred came trampling down the staircase, falling into his brother’s side in a buoyant bounce. 

“And an incredible, irking ability to get under my skin,” Fred chuckled, a theatrical groan sung aloud while he bowed his head to greet you, and then passed through you both to reunite with his sister on the sofa. 

“We can give her that much,” George nodded, patting his brother’s shoulder while the boy fled past. You took another glance, noticing Fred nearly mirrored George’s new outfit, but his button-down top was a spiced amber-orange with white stripes. You finished adjusting your hair, slipping your hands through George’s sleeves that felt a foot too long for your noodle arms, even with the sleeves rolled. The sweater nearly passed the hem of your dress as well, reaching just down over your rear and giving you spacious comfort that relinquished most of the anxiety over something as little as your dress.

“Do I get to know now? I’ve been waiting all day,” you requested, impatiently, tightening the folds of his jacket around your person. 

“How long has she been begging?” George questioned the others, his arm stretched around your shoulders with a sigh down towards you. “You’re rather impatient, did you know?” You hipped his boney side and nodded, proudly.

“So I have been told, believe it or not,” you articulated, Ginny messing with Fred on the couch and little conversations giving you time to cast a compliment up towards the giant at your side. “You look fairly handsome. What’s the occasion?” George rolled his eyes at your attempt to simply question him with different words, interrupted by Ginny, who had just whacked Fred over the head with a pillow.

“Fairly is an overstatement,” Ginny uttered to the group, laughing agreement poured throughout friends occupied in the Gryffindor common room. 

“You stole the words off my tongue, Gin!” Fred acclaimed in astounded pride, holding up his hand for Ginny, who high-fived her elder brother. George glared back at them and you were lousy at secretly laughing with the others. 

“Shove off, both of you,” he remarked, narrowed eyes towards his siblings and then flashed back to you. He presented a declarative finger, “and you, gorgeous girl, no more questions.”

“But—“ you started to object, reasoning that you were sort of entitled to an idea of what to be prepared for. 

“Ah! What did I just say?” George interrupted, raising a brow. You huffed out your jutted bottom lip into a pristinely annoyed pout, but remained silent. George grinned, well pleased with your quiet quell. “Good. Are we ready?”

“Ready for what—?” you inclined your head, but laughed yourself back into silence at the intensely dramatic gasp from George, who shook your shoulders, chaotically.

“Excuse me. I had one rule, l/n, don’t make this difficult.” 

“I’m sorry, I just want to know where--”

“And you’ll know once we get there, won’t you?” George declared, your bickering silenced again by a quirked brow and extent of his neck down towards you. The others had ignored your back-and-forth nagging and just began to file out of the common room after each other, leading you to choose silenced consent over stomping out. George bobbed his head, victoriously, letting his arm fall from your shoulders so that his hand could enclose around your fingers. He tugged you after them, following in the excitedly eager, but hushed steps through the castle. The group was heading towards Hufflepuff and you were relieved, until their paces slowed and George pulled you to a stop. 

“No, absolutely not!" you dropped George's hand and tried to retreat immediately in the opposite direction. When you spun around, you realized you were cornered by the entire group and it was Ron and Ginny that had clasped your shoulders and spun you back towards George. "Wow. So much for friendship. Weasleys work together in crime, is that it?" You huffed, arms folding over your chest and still leaning as far back into Ginny and Ron's hold as their arm-length allowed. You tried to sculpt it from a strategic angle and figured that your best escape route would be jumping into a crawl under their legs and then sprinting before Harry and the others could catch you. 

Realistically, you knew the moment George teased the silk hanky as a blindfold; you were doomed. You were not slow, but you did not fancy your odds against Harry or George, even Ginny worried you. She was quite an outstandingly amazing athlete. On a side note, you really wanted to see who would win in a race between Harry and Ginny, you would most likely put money on Ginny. Obviously because she was faster, not because Harry was the kind of guy to go full force at the start and then slow down right before the finish line to let Ginny win. No, definitely not the second one. 

"What happened to trusting me?" George questioned, waving the fabric in his fingers. You reached out and pushed his hand down, rolling your eyes at his still teasing gestures. You did trust him, but you also weren't about to let one of the Kings of Pranks to blindly lead you into your house where your friends had been hiding and acting equally suspicious all day. 

"I realized who you were," you pointed out, trying to step around Ginny's side but stopped by Harry shaking his head and closing the tiny exit gap. You whined out loud, looking to where the group had actually become a complete circle with you in the center. You sent a pleading glance to Neville, Dean and Seamus, "come on, don't tell me you guys are in on it, too."

“Of course we are,” Fred snickered, watching in pure amusement at the anxious adrenaline rocking you through the group. 

"There is a very high probability it will not kill you," Hermione chimed in from the opposite side of Ron. Your gut sank inside just as Neville nodded enthusiastically, deciding to chip in as well.

"Nor cause you a high amount of psychical pain," Neville smiled, adorably proud of himself for clarifying what he thought would help. You dropped your head into your hands, muffling groans into your cold palms.

"That is very comforting, Hermione and Neville, thank you," you muttered sarcastically, glaring at the pair through your fingers. Seamus reached out and nudged your shoulder, chuckling.

"Stop being such a baby, will ya?" Seamus playfully ridiculed, you swatted away his hand and matched his teasing temperament. 

"Oh, I can show you baby if you really want, Finnigan--" you wiggled a finger in his direction, your awful attempt at threatening caught and cut off by Dean's laughter.

"What kind of threat was that--?" Fred cackled, contagious laughter bouncing from different sides of the circle around you. You shot your finger from Seamus to Fred, momentarily even to Dean when he was about to follow in laughter.

"Shut up, Freddie, I'm stressed and I don't like saying mean things," you admitted, aggravatedly heaving your arms to fold the sides of George's sweater tighter around you. George stepped forward, outlining your face with his fingertips and cupping your cheeks in his palms to pull your eyes up to his. 

"Trust me," he whispered, having already sneakily handed the blindfold to Ginny. You didn't fight or argue because he'd stripped the teasing tone from his voice and replaced it with soothing sincerity. As much as you were worried, you nodded in his hands and without another warning, Ginny stepped forward and tied it securely over your eyes. 

"Is it on?" you heard Hemione ask barely a moment after you were launched into darkness. You thought you'd got lucky when Ginny nearly missed the entire line of sight, but George pulled the silk fabric down to cover the extent of your peeking and moved his hands from your face to your hand.

"Can she see?" Harry asked as well, their voices seeming to drift into different positions now that you were blind. George linked his finger through yours and slowly ushered you forward. You gave up immediately on the hand and went for his arm instead, clinging tightly to follow his steps more accurately.

"Do you think she'll trip?" Ron commented, chuckling the words out and receiving scattered laughs from the others. You imagined Ginny rolling her eyes and Hermione rightfully batting his arm after you heard an "ow." 

“I’ve got five knuts on the Huffle tripping,” Fred muttered to the guys behind you, earning an intriguing hum from Seamus. 

“Two sickles?” Seamus wagered, George’s hand leaving you long enough to swat the boy. 

You tried to look around to face them, not actually knowing where any of them had moved. "You all do realize it is a blindfold, it hasn't miraculously made me deaf as well," you stated, earning laughter from even George, who was still leading you all closer to the Hufflepuff portrait-passageway, allowing you to remark softly, "...and yes, I fully believe I will trip." The giggles gushed out from the group again, George rolled his eyes and whispered something too quietly to the portrait. He then nudged you and you shot up a wave to what you assumed was straight ahead. "L/n present!" you confirmed your identity, the sound of the portrait unhatching was the only response you got. 

"Step," Ginny directed, making you flinch as her voice came directly from your side out of nowhere. You were familiar with the structure of Hufflepuff, but had never done it blindfolded under his much anxiety. You stepped at her command, her arm looping supportively through your own. You truly relied on both of them to get you to the bottom safely, ignoring Ron's and Seamus' joking whispers daring the other to give you a push. "I will throw you both down the steps if you even think about it," Ginny threatened before George could, silencing the boys right away and gathering proud chuckles from the rest of you. 

"I'm going to fall," you groaned, fiddling with George's sleeve and nearly slipping on the steps down into Hufflepuff. Ginny held you closer.

"You're not, I've got you," Ginny assured, squeezing your arm. George scoffed at your other side, shrugging the shoulder you clung so soundly to. 

"I mean, I'm practically doing everything but--" George joked, whispers afar informing you that the common room was not empty. A couple of stragglers no doubt, it was past super so a few here and there passing time until lights out, made sense. Ginny was suddenly gone, hand slipped from yours and then gone when your hand thrashed about to find her. 

"Gin-- George, what's going on?" you asked, now entirely wrapping yourself around George's arm. George laughed, the others seemed to have disappeared as well. "Happy Birthday," he whispered, using his free hand to reach around to the back of your hair and release the blindfold.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!" you couldn't identify any one voice out of the dozens erupting through the entire Hufflepuff common room, the bright torches illuminating the crowded and decorated room. Golden shards of confetti were raining from the ceiling everywhere, you didn’t even register the sound of the rockets exploding just moments before the blindfold was removed. There was loud music, but even louder applause and cheers exploding in a hectic harmony, your heart was racing, trying to take in everything and failing when you were tackled suddenly. 

“Happy Birthday, beautiful! I missed you,” Elle squealed happily in your ear. She was squeezing the life out of you, crushing your ribs with her own chest and cutting off your oxygen with her tight hold around your neck. She was bouncing upon the balls of her feet, causing you to stumble backwards and nearly topple over if not for George’s quick thinking. 

“You did this?” you asked, voice muffled into Elle’s hair while Cedric emerged from the crowd, meeting your beaming smile and enclosing his arms around the both of you. You giggled, holding your friends impossibly close.

“Guilty,” Elle shrugged, releasing your frame with a glance towards George, and then backwards at Cedric, who was dragging the other Gryffindors back into the group. You looked over all of their heartily happy features, smile brightening with a glimpse back at George behind you. He leaned his head down upon yours and you leaned back into his frame.

“All of you?” you asked, disbelief and appreciation bubbling joyously inside of you. They all nodded quickly, the music in the background growing louder and forcing all of them to start shouting just to be heard. You were sure you’d all be caught in no time, but your mind was still trying to clarify any of this was real. It was a party for your birthday, you had some great friends.

“It was so hard to keep it a secret,” Ginny breathed loudly, grinning happily over at you. George nudged his front into your back.

“But we really tried to keep it a surprise, but you were annoying,” George groaned over the music, patting your head. 

“And I needed all of their help,” Elle acclaimed, thankful thread of her fingers towards the Gryffindors. Ron stepped forward, leaning his head into the center of the group so that his voice was loud enough. 

“We were pretty much just distractions,” Ron clarified. Elle rolled her eyes, exchanging spots with Hemione so she could side-hug the youngest Weasley brother.

“And you were great at it. All of you,” Elle assured, her gaze treasuring thankfully from Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Neville. 

“You guys are amazing,” you cheered, ecstatic cherishing lulled upon all of their lovely faces. 

“We are, aren’t we?” Hermione agreed, Ginny giggling, cheerfully at her side. You didn’t realize George’s shadow had disappeared long enough to return with his fingers lined with tiny chalices.

“Cheers?” Fred began to pass them down, everyone but Neville graciously accepting. You moved to take one from Elle, but was stopped by Fred’s mischievous chuckling. “Not so fast, this is for you, golden gal,” Fred presented you the largest drink. 

“Already?” you winced, hesitantly accepting the slightly larger cup from Fred. George poked your side, winking down at you. You blushed back at him, bubbly blues brightening the blush in your cheeks. 

“Plug your nose?” George offered, causing you to giggle and glance to Fred, who shook out his limbs and finished his brother’s advice.

“And swallow fast,” Fred instructed, handing the last of the glasses to Cedric and his brother. George stepped around your side, still tracing his palm over your lower back when he raised his cup high into the center. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Neville whispering something to Ron, who distracted Ginny promptly enough for Neville to steal away the little liquor glass and replace it with his bottle of water. Neville tried to jump apart from the smaller ginger hastily, but Ginny snapped around faster, halted by Ron's arm around her shoulders. "It's for your own good, you're lucky they didn't catch you nearly drinking," Ron scowled, tucking her close to his side while raising his own cup. "No, you're lucky Neville was paying attention. I am thrice more mature than the lot of you, anywho," Ginny defended herself, annoyed reel of her light hues as she slipped from Ron's grasp. Fred fled from George's side and draped his lanky limbs over Ginny and Neville's shoulder. "Which is exactly why you should be responsible enough to keep charge of everything," Fred preached pleadingly, knocking his cranium into Ginny's. You watched in amazement, the shades of their strands blending almost perfectly, if not for the chaotic spool of spiraled mess Fred's locks happened to be. You should have offered a nice grooming before leaving, really only fascinated with the tidy triumph George had with his own honey hair. "Wow, babysitting buzzed brats, I'm overjoyed," Ginny groaned in a reply, patting Fred's cheek while he thanked Neville for catching his mistake. He'd meant to just pass enough for Neville, but Neville wasn't fond of drinking, so Ginny was attempting to keep it and solely play it off long enough to blend into the group's gestures. Neville realized just as the cups began to rise. 

“To y/n!” George shouted, exultantly exclaimed over the entire room rather than just the group. George commended the whole room into raising their cups, hollering hooted in what you assumed was just a chance to party from fellow students rather than close friends you really didn’t have. Elle and Cedric had always been it, but your group looked to be getting a bit bigger with the new, friendly faces lifting their cups to George’s. 

“Happy Birthday, y/n!” The complete crowd all sang in a delightfully pleasant rendition, melodious magnificence that had the rim of your cup lingering at your lips. You weren’t a common drinker, but knew better than to allow your nostrils the wrenching scent of liquor, the smell projecting an appalling shiver through your spine. The others joined in cheer, all but Neville raising their glasses to their lips while the innocent Gryffindor gallantly tossed the contents just over his shoulder so it landed in a nearby trash. You giggled to yourself, locking eyes with Neville, who pressed his finger quickly to his brims with a gleeful grin. 

“Thank you!” you expressed, effervescently daring yourself to follow in their unhesitating motions. You should have plugged your nose, struggling to swallow the bitter liquid quickly as it stained your tongue and burned down your throat, like driving lava. You winced, holding your breath with the aided assist from George, who tossed his own back, effortlessly, and then raised your elbow with his finger. God, why did it burn so bad? And why the hell was there so much? Sure, it was your birthday, but you should have been blessed with the smaller cups, damn Fred. You shot the remainder back and the group praised a fit of cheering while you coiled a tight cringe, shaking out your limbs from the harshly sour, venom inflaming your trachea.

“That was only number one, darling!” George teased, his hand slipping across your back and proceeding to knit with your own fingers as they rested at your side. He squeezed your hand, his gaze meeting your own while proudly wearing that goofy grin upon his lips. There were a million things going on around you, but you were content and settled at his side.

“You’ve got one hell of a night in store,” Fred taunted, throwing his arms up and colliding with Cedric’s side. They were already a couple of drinks in, you could tell Fred started before you even got here, and Cedric had been going since last night. You should have been worried about them both, but you were lost in the trust of George’s glistening globes of sapphire sky. 

“Are you ready to have some fun?” Elle plopped her chin upon your shoulder, practically giggling into your ear while you stared sounded up at George. He pulsed a playful squeeze through your hand and you nudged him with your hands. 

“Hell yes,” you should have taken a moment to answer. You didn’t doubt or question your certainty in Elle, even as little as you partied, you trusted her more than anything to throw a party the right way. She was a genius and hospitable host, so you knew you were going to have a world of fun tonight, and then some. Tonight was going to be your night to let go and truly just focus on having a great time with your friends. You didn’t feel worried, already relaxing into the first drink of the night when tearing your eyes from George and glancing to where Elle had tilted in just the wrong angle to make you sick. Your throat was painfully dry, on fire even with the burning sensation of booze still bore upon your seared taste buds. The room stopped and the music died into a dull drowning stillness, your gut twisting into a miserable mess when George’s voice echoed beside you.

“What’s Malfoy doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts? Happy Birthday, obviously. I really hope you liked the small scenes here with the canon characters, I know I can't write them, but I do like exploring their immature sides, since they are still children. Please let me know what you think, I love hearing from you! This chapter is obviously leading to much more! Can't wait to see you guys soon! As always, I love you! Good things are coming, I promise you that!


	14. Birthday Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco happens to be in attendance at your birthday party after an odd encounter earlier that morning. Your friends were planning for a perfect night full of carefree celebration; there's no way you're getting that with Draco Malfoy present and in your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14! This comes after the holidays, so I hope you had a great holiday! I had to split this chapter again because I'm eager to upload for you all ASAP. I hope you enjoy reading! Comment your thoughts!

Elle studied your features, your expression noticeably declining in a discreet drop from extravagantly ecstatic to neglectful nuisance while ripping your hovering hues from the distasteful cluster of serpents in the corner. You prayed Draco hadn't caught you staring again, quite certain he was not here by any awful accident, nor gave you any opportunity to slyly slip out of the room and put as much space between the two of you as Hogwarts allowed. If you were honest, you could be a universe apart from Draco Malfoy, and it would not be far enough for your nerves. The silence became insufferable by Elle, who struggled to decrypt the disarray of pure messy madness emitting from your expression while you interiorly battled the dozens of crossed emotions forthwith threatening to surface. 

“George, can you be a dear and grab us some drinks?” Elle requested, attempting to get you alone to offer an explanation you desperately needed but would never attend to with Weasley at your hip. It was timely and convenient considering George had just taken to your tension, furrowed brows skeptic over to Elle at her summoning, causing her to stop her feet and loop her arm over your shoulders and drag you close to her instead. The smaller girl moped in pouted pleading, “oh come on, I haven’t seen her all day!” 

George glanced down at you and you demanded your body to react, joints jumbled in submerging, sudden stress coercing your lips to propose a reassuring grin. He wasn’t convinced, but shook the empty glass in his hand, “only because I happen to want one. Will you be alright for a moment?” 

“It will be most grueling, but I will manage somehow,” you were surprised by the soft whisper of your voice still allowing a joke to pass from your brims. George chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss into your hair, which had a sincere smile sinking into place upon your lips. You could feel him glaring just past your head over towards Elle, who shot her tongue back at the ginger boy in response. You elbowed her, tone still harboring tensely as you called after him, “Thank you, Georgie.” George grinned back at you, parting his tall frame through the crowd and towards where they’d apparently located the beverages. You were able to draw yourself a bit out of Elle’s grasp to examine her closely, “what is he doing here, Elle?” Elle’s lips pursed in concerning consideration that conveyed her hesitation to reveal the truth. 

“So... here’s the thing...” Elle’s voice trailed off, riddled with convicted uncertainty. You reached a hand to fall atop her arm, reassuring the small girl you were alright and simply wanted the truth through just a small squeeze. Elle sighed, “it wasn’t my fault!” “He came by to drop off the check for the dress. I tried to decline and I repeatedly insisted I didn’t want his bloody money, but he welcomed himself in and just continuously persisted that I accept it! I even tried telling him I didn’t want him here or around Hufflepuff in general. I asked him to leave, but he kept pushing me on taking the wretched check and I just held my ground--” Elle was ranting now about her experiences with Draco when he’d intruded in Hufflepuff earlier. It must have been following Fred’s escorting to Madam Pomfrey and the small encounter you’d had in the field.

“Elle?” you interrupted, directing her back to only explaining the real answer in her story. She nodded, shaking the insignificant reporting from her story-telling. You were glad he’d inevitably remained true to his word about the debts he’d owed regarding the ripped emerald dress from months ago. Of course, Elle had a different view of daring to accept tainted sterling assets considering the unforgivable family bygones that still drove them to unrequited hatred for one another solely based on ancestry and old values you still didn’t understand. You knew Elle would revel into rigid revulsion when the boy was near, but alike to the remainder of the school, all you were aware of was the bad-blood that existed between Slytherin’s blessed Black sisters drawn distastefully distant when Elle’s mother broke tradition. You didn’t push Elle when it came to specifics, nor was it your place to question her, you just knew she couldn’t tolerate Draco, almost as much as you.

“Right!” Elle exclaimed, recognizing her tangent and correcting it, quickly. “So, he caught a peek at all of this occurring and practically invited himself. I didn’t want to fight with him and it got him out of here fast! I didn’t think he would actually come and bring all of them,” she explained, eyeing them through a grimaced glare that held special hostility to a particular platinum boy dressed in dark robes.

“You invited them?” you asked, dropping your head into your hands and threading your fingertips deep into your temples to soothe annoying thumping in your skull. Elle stumbled, nervously rocking upon her feet. 

“Not directly!” Elle groaned guiltily, drawing her shoulders tightly back. “Look, I’m sorry! I can ask them to leave--”

You cut her off to clarify, pulling your head from your hands and allowing yourself a delightful inhale followed by a calming exhale. “That’s not necessary, it doesn’t bother me,” you lied lousily, not wanting to create more drama. Truthfully, you wanted to abstain from making a big deal out of nothing, especially since you could recognize what it was like from Elle’s perspective. You wouldn’t have thought they’d actually attend, and definitely not in these kinds of numbers.

“Are you sure? I don’t want this ruining your night,” Elle didn’t seem satisfied in your answer. What sold your lie? Burying the petite princess in a tight embrace that did benefit a small soothe to your nerves. You didn’t want him here, that was obvious, but you weren’t going to make trouble after she’d gone through this much to give you a remarkable birthday. 

“It isn’t an issue,” you hummed into her horizon blue hair. She laughed, returning your hug and shortly pulling back so you could finish. “As long as he refrains from speaking to me and does not start any trouble, everything will be fine.” You felt his eyes pair with his presence descending dulcetly upon you with your commentary, Elle’s sentiment being interrupted by an internal sardonic scoff sounding through your cranium. 

‘Why do you wager it will be me who incites the trouble? You’ve got some questionable attendees at this assembly’, Draco taunted, the intrusion inclining your fingers to retract involuntarily into an annoyed clench at your sides. You would never adjust to the treacherous trespassing that he'd tricked your mind to at the sound of his voice echoing solely in your head. It was bizarre, but also greatly troubling with someone as unpleasant as Draco. Elle had begun talking again, but you were distracted so your expression on the exterior was flawed into a faked listening appearance that managed to delude Elle on the notion you were actually paying attention.

‘Reading my thoughts or eavesdropping?’ you asked him, sarcastically short with the Slytherin supremity. ‘Oh, nevermind, there’s not a difference.’ You refrained from granting him a glance, originally only flashing your eyes past enough to see him rather than focus on the others. How many had he brought? He rarely traveled anywhere without Crabbe and Goyle, maybe even Pansy, but that was not who you were especially focused on learning about since Charlotte happened to be standing so close.

‘Can you even muddle through an entire conversation without thinking about me?’ Draco probed, a cruel comedy to his delighted timbre which was followed with an amazed, conceited gasp. His snicker spun through your brain, ‘aw, are you talking about me as well? I’m flattered’. You shifted your stance, moving to anxiously fidget with your fingers before you while deficiently attending to Elle’s rant on the stresses of setting up and organizing events. 

You were rescued by George, who shoved through the crowd to glide to your side with three cups balancing in his hand. “Here we are, one for me, something sour for a sour saint,” he handed a cup to Elle and she narrowed her eyes, but accepted keenly. “And something sweet for a soft sweetheart,” he handed the opposite cup down to you and you beamed back, welcoming it gratefully. Elle scrunched her nose after bringing the cup to her nose and taking an unruly whiff you were sure singed her nostrils. 

“Oh, George, you’re hilarious,” she chimed with a roll of her eyes. You tilted your head with a raised brow and she huffed her manners out, “thank you.” You reached forward to playfully pat the peak of her head and you all laughed. You raised your new cup to strike the side of her own cup, raising it to repeat the gesture to George. 

“Thank you. Both of you. I know that you both worked in kahoots to put this together,” Elle and George exchanged a grin, leaning forward to squeeze your sides in response. Elle knocked her cup into yours and George’s, the three of you practically in sync while moving the cup to your lips and taking a big swig. He claimed it was sweet and you were set on him handing you the incorrect up, but realized all would sting of strong, sour spirits scorching your throat on the way down to your stomach. You cringed hard, a tension alleviated with the spiral of sharp scorn in the form of irked laughter from Elle and George. 

‘For the record, I was not thinking about you. More or less trying to find an excuse that gets you to leave’, you commented to Malfoy, mentally. George had begun teasing Elle, who had a shaky quiver at the taste and gagged reflexively. Not being rude, but it was a bit funny. 

‘And asking nicely wouldn’t work?’ Draco questioned. You were on the verge of backtracking it all, realizing you hadn’t been kind enough to blatantly address the dilemma you were facing with him here. You hadn’t used your manners. 

‘Will you please go?, you requested, catching his gaze just past Elle. His hands were all over Charlotte and it made a compulsive shiver spring down your spine. He caught you looking, a wicked smirk narrowing back at you from across the room. You’d sounded so innocent in your pleading, but obviously you’d forgotten this was Draco Malfoy you were attempting to bargain with. 

‘No, thank you. I’m having a great time’, Draco sniggered sarcastically. You glared down at your slippers as they shifted angrily beneath you. It was the crude chortles that made you squirm in your skin. He’d offered it and then basically laughed at you like it was a snide sting, finally grasping at what he’d commented on earlier with the watching you wiggle under his rude remarks. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, none of this was. You were just glad your attention found a new outlet when you raised your head, tilting with a giggle and tug upon George’s sleeve. 

“Can your brother hold his liquor?” you asked, trench traced in amused absurdity while George turned to follow the source of your statement. George groaned, Elle’s laughter parting between you. It was Fred and Cedric, moving their way down a line of tiny glasses while being egged on by hectic hollering from the crowd of mainly guys. Very masculine. It looked like Cedric was just about halfway done with his line while Fred looked miserably pale, still trudging along and throwing the cups back. 

“You would be surprised,” George answered, dropping his head annoyingly into his hand and proceeding to drag his palm across his face. “Because no. No he cannot.” You and Elle exchanged an entertained eye, causing you to laugh aloud before she muffled her own with a shrugged admittance. 

“Nothing should surprise me with the wacky wonders anymore, but Diggory should be having his arse handed to him. It’s a bit embarrassing. You may have to show them how it’s done, George,” Elle shoved George forward, favorably. George turned to glare at the smaller girl but she wacked him over his shoulder, still trying to encourage him to join the boyishly immature games. He was less than two seconds from flaring his collar and marching over to impress everyone, his plan terminated promptly by a petite bairn. 

Ginny appeared out of nowhere, blurting in and catching George by his ear, “show who how what’s done?-- Nevermind, the answer is no! I seem to have already lost Fred-- Oh my gosh,” you held up a finger to grab her attention and then narrowed it forward to where Fred swayed and blared out a loud burp that made you cringe. It sounded wet and by the look of disgust grimacing upon Fred’s features, it came up for a grimy second. Poor bastard. Ginny lowered herself onto her feet and released George’s ear, the taller tower finally stopped humming out an ‘ow’. Ginny tossed her head back with a frustrated groan, “I’m going to have to drag him back to Gryffindor, aren’t I?”

Elle tossed her arm supportively around the Weasley tot, “babe, you are all welcomed to stay. It’s only Sunday, they’d just have to be gone before others notice they’re missing.” You nodded in agreement, crashing your head down upon Ginny’s shoulder to render any sort of moral comfort. No one they hadn’t already trusted would report the partygoers without jeopardizing themselves in addition, so a few beds could be made upon the common room floor if need be. You made a mental note to ask Cedric about it, after they seemed to have some creative sites to make good use out of the furniture. 

Elle wrapped her hands around both of your sides and brought you in for a short squeeze, humming with a fully intending glare inclined towards George. “Thank you, I certainly hope I do not have to take you up on that offer,” Ginny sighed, all of you turning your attention to the apparently innocent Weasley, who had already dazed off. George took his time while Ginny glared and you two stared expectantly, unfazed and unnoticed to the silent judgement until he glanced back to you. 

George stared back at his younger sister, brave enough to glare at the small firecracker and guzzle the remainder of the liquid in his cup. You had to look away and bring your hand to your lips to silence the threatening laugh at his demonstration, Ginny scoffing aloud and snatching the now empty cup from his hand. George shrugged, patting his fist upon his chest to trigger a burp simultaneous to his words, “don’t look to me, I make no promises.”

Ginny seemed to recoil her muted irritation, swinging around to launch her small frame into you. You thrashed quickly to catch her, patting her head. “Y/n!” Ginny whined out your name, batting her big blues up at you. 

You pulled her right-side up and tousled her hair, reassuringly. “Do you really think I can control him?” you asked, pressing the backside of your hand to her head. “Are you feeling alright, nutty?” Ginny huffed, swatting your hand down. She nudged your side and you allowed a gentle giggle to flood from your brims, both of you knowing better than to assume either of you could impact the control of George’s will to seek fun at every corner. Ginny’s troubled and fretful features still bore pleading deep into your soul. 

“No, just coincidentally keep him distracted enough from the drinks,” Ginny requested. You grinned back at her, shaking your head whilst the tiny mare fiddled her fingertips in a begging beseech. You groaned, trying to tear your eyes free from her pupil’s puppy-dog persuasion, eyes sparkling heavily. 

“I can’t be left with responsibilities, Gin,” you informed her, patting the girl’s shoulder whilst her lashes swiftly fluttered faster. She was still selling those honey, humongous hues of importune inducement, forcing you to wail a whine. “But I will do my best to assure he does not end up like his other half.” 

Ginny’s face brightened in cheerful success, propelling her adoring arms around your frame. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ve got to go find Neville too, I seem to have lost him as well,” she sighed back, George and Elle’s dull, bickered encouragements silenced by Ginny’s glare. You laughed, rolling your eyes at Elle’s stealthy shouldering and George’s wisecracking whims. 

“Do you need help?” Elle offered, distractingly to save her own skin from Ginny’s gumption. George winking past Ginny’s head to catch the flush flare in your cheeks. You bowed your head, picking at your cuticles anxiously to hide the bashful blush. Ginny thanked Elle for the endorsing offer to lend a hand, but dismissed it rather refindly. 

“I’m alright, I’m looking for him to help babysit since he’s the only other sane one of us,” Ginny stated, her kind grin projected towards Elle’s generosity. You took a glance around the room, bolting your gaze past the Slytherins and desperately attempting to locate Neville from afar with no luck. The Ginny casted you and Elle a polite smile, small steps already carrying her back into the crowd. 

“You’re welcome!” George called after Ginny, who rolled her eyes and seemed to disappear back into the crowd. You lost sight of her copper locks in the twinkle of your eye that trailed Ginny’s course in the crowd, as it so happened to be in the same direction as the serpents stalked in the corner. You were just trying to keep a vested vision on Ginny’s general venture for later assurance, but your sight was seized by the forged coincidence of Draco’s glance. 

You didn’t jerk your attention away as soon as you should have, a crater in your chest hollowing into the fixation shared between a slight second strayed in an awful alliance shared within the mere gaze. You knew better than to dally mentally now that your mind was not exclusively privileged anymore, but you were scrambling to root your mind to vacancy while lost in the collective cluster of his stare. It was like you were impressed and conflicted with every unavailing appraisal he inflicted over you. Draco may have been a God in his own fantasies, but you were encouraging his worthless warranties with every ambivalent doubt deemed curiously upon him. Elle and George’s voices had blurred out beside you in addition to the vibration of music you felt in your shoes but no longer in your ears. You thought it was the room ready to swallow you, but truly it was Draco as your gaze was repeatedly interrupted by the moving heads in the yards that separated you, but it was never broken. He stood against the back wall, head reclined on the wooden perches, pale strands combed perfectly to the side, and rich attire as dark as to drown into the shadows of the wall, light from the torches barely dancing over the black, expensive ensemble of Draco’s outfit. He was practically a dime stolen from the screen of black and white cinema back home, the only gem hidden in his appearance was the crystal ceruleans you were currently restrained to. He made you ill in more ways than you could possibly count. 

You finally breathed away, clearing your throat of the disgrace done by your own eyes. You took a step forward, back blocking out Draco and the dastardly dryness of your throat. Elle was in the midst of a debate with George, words you couldn’t focus on whilst choking yourself back into reality with the blaring music returning to burst your eardrums. Your attentive friend noticed your stumbling, and without skipping a beat with George, she slid her cup down into your empty one. Maybe it was about the boys still, you weren’t positive. You obliged with her gesture, bringing the brim of her cup to your lips and swallowing its entirety without hesitation. You needed to come back to them rather than gratify Draco’s demanding distraction, and some dumb conception in your instincts told you the liquor would suffice. You felt a dreadful shiver down your spine with the vulgar taste, your ignorance going down with consequence. Peering into the empty cup and then dividing back to the room, your eyes caught just past the both of them to where Fred and Cedric remained. “What the hell are they doing now?” you asked loudly, cutting off their argumentative remarks to entail both of their attention back to the boys. Fred and Cedric were up to it again, positioning themselves in what looked to be the workings of an upside down game? Zacharias was working on filling two tall cups with a rusty, cedar liquid that you could practically smell from across the room. 

Elle and George seemed to simultaneously groan dramatically, Elle throwing her arm over your shoulder to flourish you back into the stance. “It looks like they’re going to drink themselves sick. Foolish boys,” she laughed, clicking her tongue towards you with a sunny smile. You nudged her with your hip, joining in her laughter as George’s disgruntled hand grudged across his face. 

“I know!” He exclaimed, disapproval shifting his head to smirk back at you. “And they’re not even using the right glasses,” George winked, mischievously and leaned in to press his lips to the height of your cheekbone. “They’re hopeless without me,” you patted his chest and giggled after him, watching him flee to help his brother and Cedric with some dumb drinking challenge. 

You and Elle slowly strolled after him in no rush, managing to stop just a few feet away. You offered a wave to Cedric after a glance, who grinned sloppily back at you. He looked off, similar but somehow worse to how he turned up this morning. You turned towards Elle, concern clear in your tone. “Is Cedric alright?”

Elle furrowed her brows, nodding straight away as if it was an absurd inquiry. “Of course. He’s been getting all of the praise after succeeding in the first task. He’s been partying since last night, do you know how hard it was to get him to actually help? I’m pretty sure he’s been pissed all day,” Elle explained with a hopeful hum whilst dragging you along. “He was a bit upset to find that his new Ravenclaw friend couldn’t attend, something about being granted floo to return home for some family event-- I’m not sure, but he’s well.” You were a bit upset as well at her revelation, you were hoping to properly meet Cho Cheng, but it was not a huge setback. You had time. Elle steered you past the boys and straight to the table where the others poured bountifuls of drinks. You reunited with Dean and Seamus, but still had no sight of Neville, joining their current conversations and timidly accepting their spontaneous beverage concoctions. You were sure to be poisoned with Dumb and Dumber pouring your drinks, but it was a nice distraction and an even better way to let go. Their big talking topic revolved around the party and why Elle had chosen to throw the party in Hufflepuff rather than a more secretive place, like the greenhouse or possibly the astronomy tower. As Elle vaguely put it, apparently the twins were essential in assuring the party went undisrupted this evening, reminding you to question George later regarding what he’d done to Filch. It was wise, actually, Cedric and a few other higher classmen had put a silencing barrier around the Hufflepuff common room to mute the sounds to the rest of the castle. Even involved in the discussion, you were not prone to exemption or any kind of tempered freedom with a flaring fire burned into your backside from across the room. You were only ever familiar with the sensation of hatred-infused craze like this when it came from him, goosebumps gently garnished your skin in insufferable blisters boiled by his lurking presence over all of you. You could think of a million more intriguing sources for his attention, all of the above better than any anchor upon you. 

‘What are you doing?’ you asked him, tedious to keep your stance at opposition to him. That was your sad rationale to control yourself and appear unaffected. 

Elle had told the truth about their encounter earlier, Draco was surprised a shameful brat like his embarrassment of an estranged cousin would argue so relentlessly about taking money. From what he heard about the sick scandal of their entire mudblood coven, they needed it. He was hoping to find you rather than the bloodline’s bastard beauty, but was exceptionally unfortunate to discover Elle in the middle of planning a party after his lunch. He was notably lucky to catch her right before she let the Hufflepuff passage close completely, neither of them wanting to actually speak to one another. Yet, originally, Draco’s intentions were solely to pass along the money he was indebted to her for that damn dress near the start of term, not to learn about the occurrence of the party until he saw your name inscribed so perfectly upon the banner. He asked about it and Elle did try eagerly to get him to leave and share as little as possible, but he was just as determined. She thought accepting the money would be enough for him to take his exit, but she was wrong. In addition to the exchange of impertinent insults, blatantly cruel name-calling and bickering, Elle caved first. 

‘I was invited’, Draco answered tauntingly, eyes still searching your backside rather delightfully. He would refuse to admit he had lost the war in his pants when you’d first come in, even if you were nestled unsuitably close to Weasley and wearing his larger coat. He knew you were eager to hide the consummating curves of your faultless frame that cut off his airways, but Draco sought solace in being the only person to truly enjoy the exquisite artistry under those shammy velvet threads. He’d recruited the others as soon as he returned to Slytherin after speaking to Elle, a few dozen agreeing to attend, in addition to a handful of visitors. Charlotte looked her best, but she was not in a near comparison to you, obvious from the first time you walked down the steps and Draco’s chest tightened. He figured keeping his hands on her would intrusively distract you the most, and judging by the amount of small glances you’d stolen, he was not wrong.

‘Bullshit’, you replied, signaled to laugh out loud with the others over some comment from Seamus you didn’t hear. Their voices were dulling out again now that Draco’s voice in your head divulged the core of your consciousness. You didn’t need to meet his eyes or stand before him to feel connected to him in conversation thanks to the mind tether, it was as if you were alone and he was standing with his back to your own, voice echoing through the dwelling of your mind. ‘I meant the staring’, you clarified, sipping at another sour substance Seamus swept into your empty palm. It was worse than the last in terms of strength, but you forced a thankful smile towards the lad, tracing the table a step or so behind Elle. At the other end of the table, you were now in better sight of Draco. As much as he preferred your backside, he was just as ready to have his eyes crawl lavishly across your front. Not to mention how much harder it became to ignore him. You would look up, and there he was, already watching you while blandly bartering in deliberation with Crabbe and Goyle, Charlotte sat upon his knee and dancing her delicate digits through his bleached strands. The moment your eyes met his, it was like he despised your gaze so much his handsy hold stretched further around her, flauntingly. 

‘I’m not the only one with a staring problem, l/n.’ he chimed in reply, his chuckle ringing in your ears while your stomach knotted, eyes immediately torn down to your cup. You hurried to focus on anything other than him, finishing off the remainder of Seamus’ brew. You felt a hand around your shoulder and turned with a grin to see George, already joining the debate between Elle and Seamus, Dean laughing in the background. You leaned into George’s touch, matching Draco’s wicked wit while listening to the sound of him gritting his teeth, ‘have I told you that you look like a goddess in gold?’ Everything froze, even the music paused into a muffled mute. You wanted it to be a sick joke or a cruel insult, but it made your heart thump out your arse. You felt flames in your cheeks, a flushing fire you couldn’t explain paired with a slithering sulk in your gut. You bowed your head, trying to hide the seemingly spontaneous blush. 

‘Are you pissed already?’ you accused, poorly laughing off the crude compliment. George scoffed at the boys, leaving your side for just a moment to properly blend the rich liquors together. You weren’t listening to what they were saying, as much as you should have been to actually follow. ‘Do you know who looks better? You’re girlfriend, Charlotte’, you sarcastically snipped. You wanted to ignore him and venture yourself back into reality to block him out again, but a piece of you awaited his reply while tracing your fingertips over the tabletop. 

‘Are you positive it’s Charlotte?’ Draco asked, genuinely curious. You gripped the edge of the table, swallowing the doubtful laughter as if Draco was making another joke. What a bloody bastard, you pitied Charlotte more than you wished, she was beginning to remind you of yourself.

‘You’re ridiculous! How do you not know? It’s been weeks’, you mocked Draco in riled ridicule, furrowed brows flashing upwards at the most troubling instance. Your mouth was roughly dry again and the pit in your stomach stung in dismayed distress you couldn’t describe. Charlotte was just about shoving her tongue down Draco’s throat while his hands squeezed her arse, they looked more than comfortable in this position. Why did it hurt? 

Before you could allow yourself to wallow in self-loathing, Elle became aware of your pale perception. Elle watched the color clear from your features, following your hollow stare as it fled from Draco to the floor. He’d flashed and flaunted her about like this before, hands and lips equally shared with the lone objective to make you twitch. He did this just to get over your skin, and if not for Elle, you probably would have just tried to make a run up to your room and nap the rest of the night away. Elle had different plans, which surprisingly did not start with some well-deserved Serpent scourge. “Oh my gosh! I love this song! Come dance with me, y/n?” Elle begged, grabbing your hands in her own and bouncing eagerly on her toes. As sweet as she was, you felt nauseous and dancing did not feel like a great idea after Draco’s dastardly display. You felt like napping, but the better alternative, since you were not likely to successfully make an escape and retire to your dormitory, would be staying to continue drinking. 

You sighed, hesitantly shuffled back onto your heels. “Oh, I don’t know. I was going to get another with George--” you began, glancing around your side to where George was already shoving your shoulders forward. He pressed a kiss into your hairline, interrupting your excuses and sending you off. 

“I’ve got it! Go on, I’ll find you out there,” George encouraged, grin beamed with a side-smile that revealed his charming pearls. You rolled your eyes, stuffing the discomfort down inside and scampering after Elle. George did just that only seconds after you and Elle started dancing, really just swaying into one another and laughing as she managed to illuminate your entire mood. Why the hell did you care what Draco was up to? Especially because it was your birthday, the one day you shouldn’t have had to worry about Draco, but who cared? You had the greatest friends and a super sweet gent who joined you in the lively crowd with a strong, savory drink mixed to perfection. 

The music was loud, definitely too loud to be considered soundly stealthy. You weren't sold completely on how they'd managed to keep a grand party such a secret with so many students currently crammed into Hufflepuff. It was mostly everyone from the House, loads of Gryffindors, a bunch of Ravenclaws, and scoured Slytherins. It was certainly an overlooked destination since there was barely room to breathe without crashing into others, perhaps they hadn't imagined so many people would be in attendance until it was too late. Surely, you hoped your dearly dazed friends plotted around being discovered by a Professor and exposed to the consequences of daring to throw a recklessly endeavored event. 

In all honesty, the common room could have been ablaze with ferocious flames devouring everything to ash, and you wouldn't care as long as your drink was full and the music was still playing. Needless to say the professors coming to dismantle the atmosphere was the least of your worries while a bastardly blonde brute remained at the tippy top. You were having so much fun, dancing like a lunatic and cackling like a madwoman while sharing just a few glasses with your closest friends, mostly behaving like a wild, irresponsible child that had begun to forget caring about the little things. You weren't feeling the liquor, or at least, you continued to lie to yourself about the abstinent affect it happened to be encouragingly influencing upon you to unwind your cautious composure. 

You couldn't describe how gracefully-sloppy George danced, and it had you launched into uncontrollable laughter he took pride in causing. George's excuse for dancing was the pure, flimsy flailing of his scrawny, scraggly limbs in chaotic gestures while bouncing tirelessly. He might have been your favorite goon, but it made you so joyously jubilant because he was casually and carefreely himself. You joined him in the disregard, twirling and twisting to the rhythmic rumbles erupting from a whirling record. Elle mocked merrily over the music, practically wailing over the ecstatic melody to tease the troublesome display of awful moves, granting both you and George delight in the challenge of boring ordinance. Among the adorable appearance, you adored much of how free and liberated George lived his life.

As much as you treasured the ginger gentleman, you taunted yourself with tormenting treason through every insufferably ghastly glance across the room, pathetically keened on discovering the less interesting serpent. A part of you was just disappointed Draco didn't dance, but you weren't surprised since it seemed Draco was destined to disappoint, something you had caught onto only shortly after meeting him first year. Maybe you should ask him why he doesn't dance, since Charlotte looked to be dozing off due to boredom. You scowled yourself, the mental distractions hampering you from focusing on George. 

The room was starting to get dim from the torches, but it wasn't the lack of lighting that had your mind rather cloudy. George's grasp on your hand had you twirling about while you laughed insatiably. You were grounded with the collision back to his sturdy chest, your laughter locking hiccupping tightly in your chest while beaming bubbly up at him. He wore that goofy grin so cheerfully, one hand enclosing you to his front while the other balanced a drink he downed. You realized you had almost spilt your own in his trusting twist, trying quite awfully to mimic his actions and finish off your glass. 

George laughed, playfully reaching out to tip the bottom of your cup higher into the air. "You've got it, there you go--" his teasing tone was cut off by your coughing as a giggle betrayed your airways at the same time the tilt of your cup nearly drowned you. You were forced to pull the drink away in order to catch your breath, inevitably spilling the small swig remaining upon the side of his jacket as it hung from your figure. 

"George!" you scowled through gasps, showing him gently backwards as he busted out into uncontrollable laughter. You were choking on your drink and he was heaving through howling hysteria, after causing the accidental struggle. You tried to wipe the new stain, grateful while embarrassed that you'd spilled upon the sweater he'd so generously offered. You know Elle would have wrung you out if you spilled on such a decadent dress, but wished it wasn't at the cost of George's. "I'm sorry--"

George caught your stumbling hand rubbing at the damp fabric, dismissing your attempt with a shake of his head. "Why are you apologizing? It was my fault, don't worry about it," George brushed it off. 

"Oh that's fortunate, you dork!" you exclaimed with a huff, still scrubbing your knuckles over the stain, which only seemed to dry it into a lasting splatter in the crimson cloth. Just by wearing the jacket, you shrilled at the sharp stench of spilled liquor bled into the side of his jacket, nearly nudging you nauseous. 

George started to sigh, “let me fetch you another--"

You interrupted with a hand upon his chest, dispersing the offer. "No, it's alright! I needed some air, anywho," you were about to turn back, pausing before you could part to grab George’s arm and press up onto your tippy-toes. You reached up and dropped a soft peck against his cheek, causing George’s goofy grin to bare down upon you while you beamed brightly up at him, a blissful blush highlighted in your face. "Will you make sure she doesn't collapse? She tends to enjoy careless indulgence, but won't admit she's a feather when it comes to immunity." You were positive you’d also explained your own behavior from the last time you enjoyed yourself like this. George snickered, patting your hand, reassuringly. 

"Sounds familiar," he commented, ironically. Instead of having a shot at you, he tossed his head to the side and you followed to find his focus welded upon where Fred and Cedric were still going at it. You didn’t know this part of Cedric, but he was beginning to look green and unbalanced. “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” George informed you, patting your shoulder just as you turned to travel back towards the table. You heard George call out to Elle before you trudged through the crowd, “hey Elle, let's dance over here, not on random boys!" The exclamation made you laugh, fully recognizing that Elle would most definitely behave in such a manner after that many drinks. You trusted George when he implied she was in good hands, after all, George had taken care of you for the most part with the welcoming event earlier in term.

‘He hadn’t done it all on his own now, have you forgotten?’ the voice in your head taunted. You rolled your eyes, trying to holler pardons and excuses while impelling your stalking steps forward. It was like the crowd had grown substantially in the few hours you’d been there. Just ignore him, you ordered yourself. Draco snicker sounded in your cranium, ‘good luck with that, damsel. You didn’t tell me it was your Birthday.’ 

You shrugged a shoulder, still steering through the jumble of bodies. ‘You didn’t ask—nor do I actually wish to speak with you, voluntarily’, you remarked, simply. It was easier to speak with him remissive under the burden of booze. You almost forgot to not utter the words aloud with his expressions echoed through the walls of your mind. 

With the numb ease entranced by the liquor, logic was just as faulty as your perception. You were unaware of Draco’s studying stalk as you carried on, struggling to pry between frolicking frames. ‘If I may, you happen to be speaking to me now’, Draco pointed out.

You rolled your eyes, humming through the destination. ‘Unintentionally and against my own wishes’, you retorted, oblivious of your surroundings and suddenly slipping over a step and more or less stumbling over the loss of balance. You reached out and caught yourself on the edge of the table before you could actually collide with the floor, thankfully. 

You tried to play it off, floundering to your feet and sloppily straightening up. You had just begun to believe none had detected the slip up when Draco’s insufferable snickering scorned your senses. He laughed at you so cruelly, as if amused by your accidental topple. ‘Are you already tripping? Perhaps someone should cut you off so soon’, Draco mused, comically impressed with himself. You rolled your eyes to yourself, adjusting with a slight subdued glimpse over your shoulder to catch Draco’s subtle smirk. It was something about the vision of vehement humor veiled so neglectfully natural on his buoyant brims that bloomed your boozy butterflies to baptize in his pale peculiarities. From the looks of the cups secretly stacked in his hand that told you he was indeed enjoying himself this evening. 

‘No, it was just a steep step’, you lied, splinting your stare forward. There was no step, you just happened to trip over your own feet. Thankfully, you had already reached your destination; the table where Ron was now with Dean. You were surprised Ron was still here, you’d lost track of him and the other gallant, golden comrades after your initial drink. They both greeted you kindly while you leaned over the counter to prevent shouting louder than you needed to, petitioning either of them for the strongest drink creation. Ron shrugged to Dean, who held up a finger and explained he would be back with Seamus, the little leprechaun who could surprise anyone with a brilliant-beverage creation. 

Ron was in the midst of small talk when your stare spaced-out on what you believed to be the ground, not even fully comprehending that your eyes had zoned onto the specks of a shoe, hidden around the edge of the table. You dismissed yourself from the conversation with Ron, who was called off by Harry anyways. Your brows knitted together at the discovery when it moved, nearly giving you a heart attack and leading you to peer around the surface of the tabletop, head tilted with a light chuckle. 

“Neville?” you gawked down at the floor. It looked like you startled the poor boy settled on the ground beside the table, who jumped hearing you call his own name over the music. He looked up at you and grinned after realizing who you were, facial features softening. 

“Oh! Hello y/n! Are you having a good time?” Neville responded, kindly. Neville was always so polite with no conditions whatsoever. At first, you were worried because it looked like the kid may have been hiding. But, his cheerful tone made you giggle less gracefully. 

“Spectacular, thank you,” you folded your arms down onto the side of the table, perching your head up onto your hands to angle yourself before Neville. “What on Earth do you happen to be doing down there?” you asked, brow lifted curiously. 

Neville nodded his head at the notion it was a bit odd, gesturing down to the shadow of a fluffy, bitty bundle nestled in his lap. “I found your kitten! He is very sweet,” Neville admitted, sheepishly. You planned to scowl Elle later over not keeping the dormitory door shut, especially since your kitten seemed to like exploring the house more than the Hufflepuff pets. The little guy is King of the common room and to your surprise, he was not scared off by the noisy music. 

You agreed in a sweet bob of your head, “oh! He is, yes. Are you alright, Neville? You seem bored,” you pointed out, inspecting his face for signs he was not having a good time. You would walk him back to Gryffindor yourself if he appeared to be bored or upset, or just not having fun. 

Neville’s brows trenched and his head tilted, opposing shake riddling the tweed, shaggy strands of his hair. “I’m having a great time, it’s a nice party! Kind of loud, but I got used to it. Ginny was just here, I think she went with Hermione to the girl’s lavatory, but she should be back soon--” Neville began to clarify, interrupted by a cheerful exclaim sounding behind you. 

You didn’t have time to turn and find the source of the call, not that you needed to since you instinctively recognized the voice before their arms wrapped around you. “Longbottom! What are you doing on the floor?” George leaned upon your shoulder to peer down at the boy on the floor just as you had. Initially, he thought you’d lost it and it came across as you just conversing with the floor, rather than Neville. 

“Keeping the kitten company,” Neville assured George, once again motioning down to the black ball comfortably curled in his lap. You hadn’t realized Dean and Seamus had returned until Seamus scoffed around the other side of the table. 

“Wee devil you mean,” Seamus poked in. George was about to laugh when you nudged his noggin with your own.

You narrowed your eyes in a forewarned glare towards the short mick, “shut up, Seamus.”

Seamus laughed and George shrugged a shoulder, resting his chin upon the curve of your shoulder. “He’s not wrong. Bloody puss hates people,” the ginger remarked. 

You gasped, avoiding a glance to meet his gaze since he was so close. “That is not true! He’s just a babe,” you argued, throwing out a hand to where your kitten peacefully snoozed on Neville. “Look, he loves Neville! He’s not mean.” 

“Oh really?” George scoffed, doubtfully. You pressed your lips into a thin line to hold back laughter, watching George crouch beside Neville and begin to reach a hand towards the kitten. He stopped immediately when the kitten’s eyes snapped open and a growl snared through the tiny body, causing George to jump back up and take a step behind you. “Look at him! Y/n he just growled at me! Vicious moggie, be thankful I don’t feed you to Zabini’s snake,” George warned. 

“George!” you exclaimed, baffled and bringing a deserving whack upon his arm. He laughed, throwing his hands up to profess his innocence.

“I haven’t done a thing to him!” George shot back, defensively. “I was just going to pet the little bugger.”

“That’s so strange,” you commented, watching Neville proceed to comfort the small kitten in gentle pets until he returned to slumber. George groaned, turning away from Neville and towards Seamus and Dean. 

“Anyways,” George addressed the drink situation while you presented a favor to Neville about watching over the kitten for you. Your pleading was senseless and unnecessary since Neville was content doing so, a wide grateful grin growing upon your lips when he nodded happily. You thanked him and George stole three drinks from Seamus, grabbing your hand and yanking you after him out onto the jammed floor again with a last wave over to Neville. 

George spun you around and you slowed yourself, not wanting to get sick but also eager to return to the exuberant liveliness of the party’s dancing swarm. Elle was still bouncing around, eyes illuminating seeing you back and immediately diving into your arms and nicking a drink from George. You laughed with her as she stole you away from him, Elle standing behind you and the pair of you just rocking against one another. 

‘It’s like you’re trying to be a distraction’, Draco silently sneered in a spiteful confession, enlightening you to the gritty gospel that he was still watching over you. You glanced up, watching Draco finish off the contents in his cup and then proceed to down the remainder of Charlotte’s as well. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’, you didn’t acknowledge his tempting taunts, deciding to change the topic and continue dancing as you pleased. ‘Are you counting?’ you asked, not sure what entirely implored you to blurt out the query. 

Draco’s confusion sounded in a mocking groan, ‘counting what?’

‘The stars?’ you shot back sarcastically. ‘Your drinks, Draco, are you counting?’ You asked yourself why in all hell you cared since your own time was slipping into fuzzy fables. 

‘No, I am not’, Draco retorted, harshly. By no mistake of his own doing, your foolish eyes failed you and deceptively rendered into Draco’s cemented stare. You caught the corner of his lips pull into a pleased lure. ‘But you tell me, since you obviously are so interested in me this evening.’

You clenched your jaw, swig tossed back from your own cup as if you were punishing yourself for such brainless behavior. He was feverish and it was impossible to shun his voice in your head, whether or not you were having the time of your life. Why would you know? You didn’t care enough to keep track of his own misfortunes, but your thoughts were not as fast as the admission that responded to Draco. ‘Five, assuming that you began drinking when I arrived and including the downs you did with Crabbe and Goyle and the cup you’d stolen from Charlotte. Girlfriend can’t keep up?’ You were beyond appalled and ashamed of yourself, the second of startled silence crushing your sickened declaration; this was pathetic. 

Draco’s sly snickering seared your sanity, inviting you to take another drink to try and erase the last few moments. ‘Someone’s been busy watching me all this time? I’m honored, truly, but you’re mistaken on both accounts. Tiny Tonks had offered one or two before you arrived’, Draco elucidated. You glared at him for his initial stabs, cocking a brow in his general vicinity seeing that your vision was becoming less lucid.  
‘That is one account, Draco. Are you sure you’re not the one that should be cut off? It appears you can’t even count correctly,’ you indicated, chiming in with a sarcastic chorus that already reckoned the answer you had troubled yourself with.

‘Second account, she is not my girlfriend,’ Draco stated, the regretful glance trapping your attention to the sight of them snogging again. Draco’s stare deemed straight past her to burn into you, sour aversion sounded in his thoughts back, ‘you know better.’

You didn’t know if it was the purely intentional stab Draco was gunning for with such ghastly, annoying commentary, or the agonizing attitude of callous ignorance that set you off. ‘Of course, how could I forget? Her and I share that, at least, being your helplessly selfish prey for greedy sex and then rejection? Does that seem about right?’ you were agitated, grip tightening on your cup while forcing a sweet smile at George. He was so sweet, but right now, you wanted to stomp past him, pry the French fairy off of him and strike that smug satisfaction from his lips.

Draco agreed, permissively heedless of the true troubles. ‘It does. I can’t tell if that is jealousy or yearning; miss me that much? You call it selfish, yet I happen to know positively so that you enjoy yourself more than a bit’, Draco taunted, vowing by the scrutinizing stare with his hands attentively dove over her body. ‘How can pleasure be greedy when it is both ways, y/n? Or are you just trying to blame me for loathing yourself?’ He was toying with you, daring you to play his game with so little rules. 

“Y/n!” Ginny’s voice woke you out of your thoughts and aimless dancing, thankfully saving you from Draco’s sadistically smug scorns. She appeared out of nowhere again, allowing air to properly praise through your lungs. “Have you seen your kitten? Neville had been playing with him when he got distracted and seemed to disappear,” she told you. 

“Is Neville alright?” Elle interrupted, even George actually attending to the conversation. Ginny nodded a reply to the other girl. 

“Yes, he’s just begun keeping score for Seamus and Dean,” Ginny clarified. 

“Score for what-- Oh,” your questioning was cut when Ginny motioned back to where Seamus and Dean both stood on their hands with their feet upon the back wall and a straw in their drinks. You rolled your eyes, massaging a weary, but not surprised rhythm into your temples. 

“Sweet! I’ve got to get a bet down on Dean,” Elle jumped, George squeezing your hand and then hurrying after her, pausing to pat his younger sister’s head. 

“Are you mad? Seamus is bloody Irish!” George nudged Elle while on her heels, both of them disappearing through the crowd and leaving you to calm Ginny. 

“Don’t worry, Ginny! He’s probably running around, or possibly he’s retired to my dormitory,” you assured her, squeezing her shoulder lightly. 

“Do you want me to check?” Ginny offered while you replied with a shake of your head. 

You rested a fingertip on your temple to explain, “no it’s alright! My head is a bit fuzzy anyways, I could use a good walk up to the room,” you casted her a hopeful smile, motioning a hand in the same course George and Elle had just taken. “Go join the others!” Ginny obliged with a sweet smile, both of you parting in different directions. You had to glance up towards the ceiling to tell exactly where you were in the room as it spun on its axis. Looking up, not a great idea. You just needed to get to the dormitory staircases, and maybe find a window to stick your head out of. 

Draco must have failed at pretending not to listen to your thoughts, his voice remitting, “any chance this rat belongs to you?’ 

You were not great at insults, but without context, you were ready to put Draco in your place. ‘I beg your-- oh’, you glanced up, realizing that Draco was referring to the black ball balanced upon his shoulder. ‘Yes, that would be him, and he is just a teeny kitten, not a rat. What is he doing with you?’ Why was he with Draco? It puzzled you that this same kitten had nearly attacked George earlier that night, why was Draco any different? Damn kitten must have been a Slytherin from the start. Your feet carried you lousily through the crowd, your destination unclear but truly needing a second of fresh air. Your body just felt heavy now that it was not supported by Elle. 

‘I haven’t a clue. I grabbed a drink and he had climbed my back and obviously made himself comfortable for a short snooze upon my shoulder’, Draco explained. You reached a wall just to ground yourself away from the crowd, not even recognizing the blurry faces that raged before you. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your fingers flatten out to the stone behind you and inhaling deeply, fully intending to just breathe in the sweaty bodies. 

That was a flawed mistake. 

Your nostrils inflamed in a rich suffocation, shivers splicing down your spine with the sinister scent of opulent cologne and blackwood mint. When your eyelids fled open, Draco was not even remotely as close as your senses perceived. You could feel his warmth overheating you from a few feet away as he rested against the same wall with distance between you. He kicked himself back onto the wall, shoulders framed tall with his head fixed away from you. Was he scared? 

“As if,” Draco scoffed stridently, snapping his glare passed his shoulder to barely meet your sincere stare. Like that was believable. It was the first time you’d actually heard his voice audibly the entire time he’d been here. For hours, you’d only listened to his frail taunts as they echoed in the undivided walls of your mind, but hearing his voice was incomparable to the mental mockery. As little as two words and you were at a loss of an entire vocabulary, not even a dictionary would help your sad, sardonic situation. 

“I don’t believe you,” you blurted out, fully unintentional. Your head crowned into the back of the wall, instantly regretting the utterance of such a stupid assertion when Draco kicked himself off the wall and dared to venture himself recklessly a few steps closer. You stopped breathing and just watched ever so attentively in vacant anticipation, but you weren’t close to cowering. You couldn’t call his bluff, but you could call his odds and continued to turn on your side, wedging your shoulder to the wall and framing Draco with your spine sorrowfully square. He was less than a foot away, provoking the challenge in your gaze that swarmed with unreadable karma. What did you feel other than your unsettled, fuming heartbeat painfully throbbing through every nerve in your body? Was he going to say something? Did you have to say something? Your eyes searched the icy, imperil impertinency of his calm cerulean for signs, clues as to what the hell was happening. The blue embarked more than just his eyes, you seemed to be drowning in the ocean right off the coast, losing yourself beyond that of your will. 

“You stink,” Draco exhaled sharply. Your hand tightened around the rim of your cup, ready to douse the serpent with the contents of your cup with no sympathy. Your entire body tensed, hatred preparing to spew from every caveat of possible resentment at the nerve of this nuisance. 

“Excuse me-- Oh,” you were so close to snapping and ranting every revolting reaction to Draco’s comment, then realization struck. You stunk due to the stain soaked into the side of the scarlet sweater swarmed around your smaller stance. “It’s George’s jacket, I spilt my drink…” your voice trailed off. Aimlessly and for reasons beyond your own rational thinking, you peeled your arms free from the sweater and slid the coat from your body to reveal the true silhouette of your figure as expunged by the golden velvet contours. Draco tried to neglect the tightness in his trousers, something that went unnoticed to you while he soaked in the alluring, angelic arches of your serene statue. Of course, this was not what he had in mind when making the observation, but he was not one to argue with the sight gifted generously upon him. 

For the first time ever under his crucifying scrutiny, you didn’t feel entirely belittled. There was a twisted and wicked wonderment of power contorted in your veins when you realized Draco’s mind was mute and he was silent because of the loss of words your appearance imposed upon him. He towered over you and you stared up at him, practically breathing in the booze on his breath while standing so close. 

You cleared your throat, bundling the sweater to your gut and forcing empty words hoarsely from your throat. “He looks so peaceful,” you blurted out loud, slight hesitation to actually scoop the small kitten off of Draco’s shoulder. You were losing your mind and the last ounce of sobriety in your body revived reality, coaxing you to back a step apart from him. You wouldn’t let this happen, you weren’t thinking clearly. Draco cleared his throat, seeming to simply blink the strange incident away. 

“What do you call him?” Draco asked, cautiously detaching the kitten’s claws from the fabric of his sleeve and planting him upon your shoulder. You grinned softly to yourself as the bundle began to purr while nestling himself comfortably. 

“He hasn’t got a name,” you admitted, frankly. Draco was silent, seam gutter between his brows while narrowing blues down at you. He thought it was a joke, you heard his unimpressed remarks without him having to say anything. You continued rather than let his mind rant about how he thought you were lying to him, “I haven’t thought of a name and he happens to be the only black kitten in Hufflepuff, so the need for a specific name has not arisen.”

Draco reminisced silently and then exasperatedly exclaimed, “what the bloody hell does that mean?” 

You sighed, equally irritated at his cluelessness, “it means he has yet to be named, why does it matter?” you snapped. Draco was not fond of your tone, the hollow hatred hardening quite visibly on his features. His lips parted, and a piece of you was impatiently interested to learn what treasons his lips would profess about your attitude, but the intrigue of an impending squabble was silenced by slurring from behind you that had Draco disappearing without another word. 

“There she is! How about a dance with your favorite Weasley?” Fred exclaimed, only partially audible through his garbling tone. He had fallen against your side, and would have actually collapsed if not for your fast-acting to support his gangly limbs. He was totally gone, not only did he strongly wreak, but the Weasley wit was making absolutely no sense. 

You laughed, keeping an arm around Fred while leading him back towards the table where you could find him a nice seat. “Gosh, you just barely made the list, Freddy? Are you sure you can even stand?” you sighed, playfully mocking the second ginger goof. Fred seemed to be stepping over his feet, paying way too much attention to which moved first rather than when and where to move them. At this rate, you would both tumble a few times before reaching the table. 

Fred chortled back, “I’m perfectly fine! S-sober as a… what is the- the saying? Gopher? Nun? Doorknob--Hey! You don’t happen to have sweets on you, do you?” Fred sang, not a slightest help when it came to carrying him. 

“No,” you answered, actually upset to break the news of your lack of sweets. “Sadly I do not. How about some water, Sir Alfredo?” you joked with his name, the nickname obviously going over Fred’s head in his current state.

“Ooh! Pasta?” Fred’s eyes popped, his sloppy smile worn on crooked brims. You were about to break his heart again, setting your cup down on a ledge and grabbing a water bottle that had been abandoned. You wouldn’t tell Fred that it may have been someone else’s, he needed water, it didn’t matter whose it was. 

“Nope, just water, ginger gruff,” you sighed softly, kicking an empty stool against the wall and cautiously beginning to lower him down. “Here, let’s take a seat, there you go,” you ended up just booting his feet out from under him to get him seated sturdily. You uncapped the water bottle and brought it to his lips, “Freddie, you’ve got to take a sip.”

Fred groaned, but obliged to just a sip, and then dramatically exclaimed, “thank you, Huffle! I feel so much better, are you ready for that dance?” Fred fumbled to his feet, which caused you to stammer after him, swooping to catch his flailing figure as he slanted. You were close to losing your grip on the ginger, saved by his reflection. 

“Dancing without me?” George questioned playfully, quickly sliding to his brother’s support and balancing the identical shadow rightfully on his side. You glanced over Fred to send a thankful glance to George, who winked back at you. 

“O’ course not!” Fred declared innocently, leaning down to your side. “There onto us, l/n. Just smile and nod.” You thwacked your head upon his arm, shaking your head just as Elle flooded to your opposite side, eagerly tugging on your hand. 

“Did I hear dancing? What are we waiting for?” Elle wiggled her brows, Fred hollering in merry agreement. You laughed, all of you returning to dance the night away, carelessly. 

You were dancing again, in the middle of the room with the torches even dimmer than before. You could barely see your own feet, let alone the others. You had lost your shoes somewhere on the floor, kicked off and freeing your feet to provide you better bounce on the balls of your feet. You were out of breath, swinging this way and that around Fred and George, Elle and other friends that had joined in the delight dancing. You needed a second to breathe, thankfully twirled into George’s chest where he cradled your hips close and your arms hung wearily around his neck. Your forehead rested against his and you just relaxed in his arms, letting the rest somber into the background while soundlessly swaying to raving rhythms. Yet, you couldn’t be left alone. 

“I need to speak with you,” a voice ordered suddenly, Cedric’s frame crashing into your shoulder right before he fully appeared at your side, stopping you dead silent in your limbs. Cedric’s plastered, pissed pleasantries had faded into a pale, dire density that demanded your abstinent attention. The look on his face was what made your stomach churn with worry, your features descending into a solemn nod. 

“Oh alright,” you did not have time to actually answer. You were a second delayed, casting a partial glance back to where George furrowed a brow at the sudden and somewhat aggressive interruption before Cedric’s hand clasped on your arm and hauled you behind him as he dove through the crowd. You tried to holler apologies to those you shoved while tripping over your own feet in the mess of bodies, heart trapping a thump in your chest at the possibilities prancing around inside your head. You were sure something had to be wrong for him to seem so serious, especially since he had been having such a good night up to now. You hoped his father was alright, aimless worries wrangling out the worst tipsy and trashed thoughts while Cedric lugged you into the far corner with the least amount of bodies. Not that it was private, it was just a bit more convenient for a conversation it looked to be pensive. You tapped your fingers against the rim of your cup, tilting your head. You tried to meet his hard hues, but they were not kind and almost appeared to be harshly hovering over you, critically. It made you even more anxiously analytic over your dear friend, “Ced, are you—?”

Cedric denied allowing you to speak before him. “No, okay? No, none of this is alright!” The tone in his voice made you jump, failing to get very far with his grasp still grounded tightly to your arm. You were suffocated by the sour scent of accusing alcohol staining his breath while he barked down at you. “Why is Weasley so fucking special?” Cedric asked, only stunning you into more bloody confusion while trying to read the drunken encryptions deciphered in his angered assertions. 

You frowned cynically in response, eyes narrowing into a deeper dissecting up towards Cedric. “What are you talking about?” you scoffed, almost attempting to laugh it off and call his bluff rather than address a dramatic inclination you weren’t sure you wanted to be involved in. Cedric’s grating glare only worsened with the grinding grit of his teeth. 

“You,” Cedric spat, distastefully, once again accidentally sparking a trembled flinch in your spine. You squirmed, nearly spilling your drink as you moved your hands to cover over his own while your fingers worked in struggles to peel his deepening digits free from their tighter clench in your arm. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, y/n. You say you’re not ready, but he is an exception? How the bloody hell does that make any wretched sense?”

He threw his opposite hand over to the raving jumble of people you had just plunged out of, where George still goofily bounced away. His comment made you cringe, dropping your drink down onto the nearby ledge and returning to wrestling his firm grip on your arm. The pain didn’t come as fast as you were expecting, and you mentally appreciated the alcohol for that, but the hold he had on you was constricting with a brutally, taunting ache. “Cedric, you’re pissed,” you whispered softly, trying to use the opposite hand to shove his chest gently back, but he didn’t budge. 

“Answer me!” Cedric growled, making you flinch away. You twisted your arm, but it just grazed your skin in a harsh heat with the friction from his calloused palm. You swallowed hard, keeping yourself calm as to incite the same response in Cedric. This wasn’t him, you repeated the reminder to yourself. 

“Let go, Cedric,” you kept your tone strict, but the begging whimper that dared to surface from the pain of his hand straining tighter only angered him more. “We can talk about this when you’re sober. I can take you to the dormitory and lie down for--“ he cut you off again, thrashing your arm forward so you stumbled against his chest. He fist tightened around your forearm so tightly you could feel his nails puncturing your skin. You bit down on your lip to silence the sore sounds threatening your lips. 

“No! I want to talk about this now,” Cedric sneered, the kid that was once your warm friend was suddenly entirely absent. “Why him? Is he just another conquest of yours? Can’t keep your filthy legs closed, or is it—” tears were treacherously teasing at the brinks of your eyes when another voice sounded behind you. 

“Take a step back, Diggory,” Draco announced, shouting loud enough to warrant his order was not perceived as a simple suggestion. You winced down at the ground, the hold he had on you preventing you from taking a step back into Draco’s bracing presence. He might not have been any better than Cedric, but anything was better than silently suffering under Cedric’s neglectful discomfort. Draco stood right behind you, gritting his teeth when Cedric took his presence as a joke. 

“Oh, isn’t this just delightful? Look who we have here, the triumph himself,” Cedric humorlessly heaved, eyes narrowing in dreadful daggers Draco returned only more dangerously. When Draco didn’t acknowledge Cedric as such, he crushed your arm more forcefully and made you muffle a cry, the tears in your eyes deceiving you in fleeing floods down your cheeks. Draco’s hand unconsciously shot out to your shoulder, taking you in close to his front and clasping his hand over Cedric’s on your arm. 

“You need to let go of her, Cedric,” Draco warned, staring Cedric down. Cedric’s grip wavered and Draco noticed it even before you did. He used the slight falter to immediately tuck you to his opposite side, out of Cedric’s reach. Draco took a step forward, Cedric’s crude chuckles complementing a new clasp upon Draco’s shoulder. 

“You know what, this is perfect actually,” Cedric chimed, cheerfully contorted. This was not your friend. He would never, unless he was upset, unless he was drunk, unless he said something he surprisingly didn’t mean, unless… Your stomach was growing sicker, the room spinning faster as Cedric continued, “I have actually been meaning to ask you, how was she?”

“Cedric!” you scowled, absurdly. You couldn’t believe your ears, the cavity in your chest was shattering, Cedric’s vile venting and nasty tone hurt you worse than the physical pain. 

“What the hell did you just say?” Draco dared a threatening step towards Cedric, your hand shooting up to his chest to try and back him away, while keeping your distance from Cedric. This was escalating faster than you could control it, you were just watching it slowly slip out of your grasp. Draco was pale and stiff, hands bore into prepared fists at his sides. 

“You want me to repeat myself? You know what, I probably don’t even have to ask you, Weasley’s right there,” Cedric gestured to where George was still mindlessly dancing, completely unaware of the horrors unraveling just a few feet away. You were baffled, shame and heartache stinging the sum of your sorrow, tears spouting like futile fountains down your painfully pale cheeks. 

“Cedric!” you scoffed in shock, barely able to finish pronouncing his name when you felt Draco’s fist twitch at his side. Alarm sparked inside of you and you instinctively reached out to cover your hands around his fist to hold it still, unable to pry yourself between their bodies. 

“You need to shut the—” Draco cautioned Cedric, easily aware he was off his rocker just standing in his general proximity. Even though Draco’s fist halted in hesitation with your hands embosomed safely, they didn’t unravel, especially not since Cedric was far from done. 

“I’m not done! Tell us something, birthday babe!” Cedric turned to you and you used the second to wedge your back to him, struggling to force Draco backwards and put space between them. You wanted to block him out, but now he was right in your ear. “Who did you like better? I figure you fancy a loathsome asshole in bed, but what about the good, giant Ginger boy?” You didn’t believe any of this was actually happening, how could he say such vulgarities even drunk?

‘Draco, he’s drunk’, you begged him to listen and just walk away through the mind tether, pointing out the obvious of his drunk stature. Draco didn’t give the slightest shit, he was losing dominance over his temper and was beginning to desire the fight Cedric was looking to start with you. 

“He can be dead, too,” Draco replied out loud, fire radiating off of his frame while his eyes submerged in craved violence. Cedric’s smirk widened, barbaric beam on his lips mirroring the aggression that came with Draco’s threatening remark. 

“Are you threatening me, Draco?” Cedric laughed in his face, a swift grasp on your shoulder used to shove you out from between them. Cedric stepped up, closing the gap between both of them so he could spit the words in Draco’s face. “You’re just a bloody bitch, boy! You don’t scare me. I will admit, I was jealous over you because you got her, but then Weasley got her so I imagine I’ll get my share when she’s done shagging the rest of the school like the true tramp she is--”

Everything went red; all you remembered was screaming, “Draco!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complex chapter? I know. What can you say? You're a sucker for a good time and bad, blue eyes. I hope you liked it! It's like 5am right now, so I don't know what to say, but I love you and you're absolutely amazing! Kudos, Comment, Bookmark, talk to a therapist? LMAO, in the wise words of one of my favorite fictional serial killers, "We all go a little mad sometimes." - Billy Loomis, Scream (1996)


	15. Wasted Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your have the greatest friends at Hogwarts who have shown you such a great night to celebrate your birthday! The one thing no one was prepared for was a slightly pissed Cedric with a grudge to pick with you. Is someone not completely over his feelings towards you? Would he be the only one? You've got yourself into quite a situation, but what do you really want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo hi!!! I know it's been like two weeks and I'm going to keep apologizing because I feel really bad! I would also like to take a second to once again say how much I love all of you! I would like to dedicate this chapter to @BabydollBarnes <3 I hope you're still reading! I really seeing your comments, they're so sweet and they always make my day! Thank you for sticking around (hopefully)! 
> 
> If it makes up for the time it took to get this chapter posted, there is a small SMUT WARNING at the end of this chapter. And a quick A/N before you get into reading, please keep in mind this is my interpretation of the characters for the story I want to tell. I know Cedric Diggory is a sweetheart and would never say some of the stuff he has been, but in his defense, he was drunk when it was said and it's a fanfiction! Thank you for 300 Kudos!!!! I love you guys with all my heart!!

You physically couldn't react. 

The sound pierced you to your core, shattering and incinerating every good thought of that evening and purely punishing you. You were horrified and absolutely imprisoned in your frozen frame, just gaping at the sudden sight as you suffered into a scared-stiff statue. You could have blinked and missed all of it, but the crystal clarity of teary torn eyes would never let you abandon or relinquish the memory of watching Draco's fist hurl through thin air and crash into Cedric's jaw. It rocked through you almost twice as hard, Cedric's body seeming to move in slow-motion as the blow sent him spinning and then crumbling to the ground on his stomach. Cedric plummeted painfully, hitting the ground rather brutally. If only Draco's intention was a warning shot. 

Draco advanced before you absorbed any of this as reality, and before you had a chance to claw him back. Your ears were ringing, screaming at yourself to move and stop Draco as he kicked Cedric over quickly and then lunged down for his collar. You were crying, unable to breathe or wrench your eyes free from the dreadful display. You could peer through the arches of Draco's figure to see Cedric, who was failing to speedily recover from such a nasty strike, but was now on his back and limply sagged from his collar. The red rupture ripped down the side of Cedric's bottom brim made you nauseous, but not to the extent of wearily witnessing Draco's elbow cock backwards and shoulder shift with the weight of another impending fist already drawn. 

You blinked. 

Draco was merciless. It was obvious he had snapped with Cedric's crude ridicules, similar to how your fragile heart had felt while scrutinized relentlessly under him, but you did not expect this kind of violence out of Draco. You always teased he would be feeble in a fight because he was a senseless talker, but you didn't believe he could hold his own for a second. You were fully expecting Draco's response to a fight he enabled to be whining and groveling about how his father was going to hear about it. The absolute last thing you irrationally imagined was the illustration of Draco dangling Cedric by his shirt and propelling a powerful punch across his face, over and over again. 

The sound of your cries finally wheezed free from your throat in a stinging sob shouted over the commotion, “Draco, stop!” You were responsible for this, but to Draco’s damnation, you were solely to blame when his scarlet-stained, split knuckles stalled in a mere moment of hesitation that could have carried the means to oblige to your periled pleading. That was, until Cedric seized the opportune opening delayed in Draco’s distraction to overpower Draco’s stance by a snatched grasp on his shoulder. Draco fell at Cedric’s disposal, Cedric lunging for the upper hand and slamming Draco into the floor while reeling them in an opposite rotation so Cedric could now send his own fist barreling down into Draco’s pale face. 

It happened so fast that you actually just believed you fainted until the shouting started and the music cut. “Cedric!” you cried out at the outrageous horror, a blade burning into your chest at the sight of Cedric hurting Draco. You ignored the obvious conclusion that announced itself at the greater suffering you endured watching Cedric unleash the floodgates of every poor image that had come because of Draco. He blamed him for everything and had been dying to do this for the better half of a year. You felt physically panged with troubled torment with every pounding punch into Draco’s face, feet fumbling under you as the need to sprint between them was interrupted by stirring shouts suddenly emerging from the crowd.

“What the hell-- Hey!” Fred’s hands grappled at your sides and lifted you off the ground before you could dive between Cedric and Draco. You tried to fight Fred to let you go, the interception only torturing you, seeing that it obstructed your shot at tearing them apart immediately. You were off the ground and spun around, havoc heeled in the clamoring chaos that had now become the center of attention. Those who didn’t immediately rush forward to aid in stopping the disgruntled disorder, just watching in silent shock. To no one’s surprise, the strangest Slytherins seemed to watch in a twisted amusement. 

“Calm down,” you recognized Lee Jordan’s voice as Fred handed you off and made a questionable attempt to intervene. He tried pulling Cedric back, but he just gave Draco a cheap chance at Cedric’s cowardly corruption. Draco quelled him again with a barbaric blow to his groin with a heaving hurl of his knee. Cedric groaned aloud and you sobbed, back on your feet but still held back by Lee’s grasp on your sides, rooting you away from the squarrelled scene. Draco’s leverage chucked Cedric’s curled frame aside and jumped to his feet. Fred moved in to separate them but Draco shoved him off and launched his foot into Cedric’s stomach, time after time. You pleaded with Lee, attempting to peel and pry your way to intrusion, but he simply sent you backwards into another secure hold. Fred was not having any luck, but he wasn’t alone for long. “Hold her,” Lee instructed Elle and Ginny, hurrying into the brawl just after Fred. Elle squeezed your side, blue with panic herself and Ginny wrapped her arms around you, slowly backing you and Elle back into the safety of the crowd and out of harm's way. Fred and Lee went for Draco, who was still plunging his heel into Cedric’s gut while Cedric coughed up spittles of blood onto the floor. You gasped, crying into Ginny’s arms and holding onto Elle’s hand for dear life, your entire body trembling to get closer and do something. Fred and Lee were both taller than the manky, manic Slytherin boy, but struggled to get a grip with Draco’s resistive wrestling. 

“Unhand me,” Draco argued through a vexed, vicious tone. Harry and George appeared at Cedric’s aid, staggering Cedric back to his feet a few steps away from Malfoy’s hostility. Draco was just barely being detained backwards by Lee and Fred, giving you false hope as Cedric immediately made a drunken declaration while tossing himself free of Harry and George’s constraints.

“You’re wasting your breath defending a tramp, Malfoy--” Cedric spat, hissed through the blood upon his lips and that which still dripped down his chin from the gash. You wanted to wince away at the comment, but your eyes latched upon Draco, no longer having the time to dwell on the insult projected now to everyone around you ad Draco strategically stole a step backwards that prompted both Fred and Lee to lose both their footing and their control over Draco. 

You blinked again. 

Draco dove for Cedric and tackled him back to the ground before anyone could stop him. He was on top of Cedric again, making use out of the torn fabric of the older boy’s shirt to slam his shoulders down into the ground, rabidly. He drew back another fist but Cedric caught it and rolled their wrangled wrestling bodies around again so that he could land a few blows across Draco’s face. The twins, Harry and Lee all fumbled, shouting sensibilities to both brutal boys enraged with a vile violence you’d never before seen on Cedric. The sweet boy you remembered seemed to be long gone and you were well-aware that sober Cedric was not a fighter, but didn’t have the slightest inclining drunk Cedric would be relatively decent. Relative because he had charge over Draco for just a few punches and then Draco threw him aside and returned to thrashing his fists about Cedric’s face until Goyle stepped in as well. 

Initially, Goyle had only neared the surface with the Slytherins to encourage Draco, planning to intervene only when Draco had been in jeopardy and then scowled to stop them by Charlotte, who was also alertly watching as well. Goyle grabbed Draco swiftly under his arms, lifting him quickly off of Cedric so that the others could pull him aside. Draco even fought Goyle, who signaled Crabbe to help as well, both boys scuffled with Draco’s own need to break free. 

“Goyle hold him!” Harry shouted at Cedric’s side, both twins, Lee and the last inclusion of Zacharias, all surrounding Cedric. Zacharias had been dozed off elsewhere and awoke near the end of the fight, helping the twins get Cedric’s worn and wounded body off the ground. Cedric wobbled on his own weak feet, more harm done to him than inflicted upon the frenzied madman still demanding to be released to finish this. 

“I’ve got him,” Goyle stumbled with Crabbe. George stepped in the center, eyeing each of them with a hard disapproval. 

“That’s enough, guys! Calm down, both of you!” George bellowed, a strong authoritative tone seeming strange from this jokester. Draco thwarted his arms free from Goyle and Crabbe, heaving chest straightened tall with daggers damned past George to where Cedric too freed himself from the other’s grasp. They were both panting, red faces innate with smaller discrepancies on handsome faces. You broke past Elle and Ginny, took shaky steps forward to land just in front of Cedric at George’s side. Cedric challenged it and if not for George in his way, Draco would have charged him again at the daring, disgraceful display, carefully contemplating every step Cedric took to tower over you. Your heart swelled inside your chest, blinking through the tears tainted into your cheeks, obscure orbs submerged in sorrowed suffering bartered in the rage reflected in Cedric’s own eyes. He was gone and this was just a spiteful stranger that spat at your bare feet and knocked past you, huffing through the crowd and storming off. 

Regardless of everything, you flinched after him. “Cedric!” you cried, George’s hand landing down upon your own to stop you in your motion to follow him. 

“It’s alright, I’m on it,” Fred patted your shoulder, jogging through the crowd to disappear just after Cedric with Zacharias just a couple of swaying steps behind. You were surprised Fred was so steady after staggering around all night, maybe the sip of water you forced him to take was enough. Now that you were turned around, you faced the daggers dug into you by Draco, who adjusted his jacket with those hard hues and wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve. He was disgusted with your tenderness to such a traitor of a supposed friend even after he’d scowled you so shamefully. You saw through the horrid humiliation that he’d actually come to your aid rather than join Cedric’s crude assault upon you. He thought you deserved it, but counter to his confliction, Draco came to you. He glared with a grit of his teeth and held out his arm, the blonde beauty then floated to his side and the Slytherins turned their backs as well. 

The silence was cruel.

“Show’s over!” George called to dismiss the remainder of the crowd, slowly tracing you backwards into his arms. It was nearly perfect, George’s gangly limbs allowing you to dissolve into his safe and warm chest. People began to file out while you caught your breath, bracing yourself in George’s embrace which slowly soothed the smothering insanity of both Cedric and Draco’s behavior. The negligent numbness calmed with the flourish of tranquil treads of tame inhales and exhales returning your stability. George pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks, letting his hand linger upon your cheek just as your side was rushed. 

“Are you alright?” Elle threw her arms around you, nearly toppling into George while squashing you close. You patted her back, returning the hug and glancing just past her shoulder to where the others exchanged silent, concerned whispers. No one had really comprehended any of what happened. You surely did not. 

“What in the world happened? Are you alright, y/n?” Hermione questioned, taking a step forward to inspect your body for signs of harm, Ginny’s slightly frightened frame following just behind her. You sighed, forcing the fakest façade of a smile to flare upon your flushed features, nodding your head to both Gryffindor girls. 

“I’m fine,” you breathed the lie, effortlessly. “I’m not sure, Cedric was drunk...” you trailed off, the admittance altered by the echoing of insults replayed in your head. Everyone was alarmed, clarity hindered on such a vague statement that failed to really explain the event endured. 

“Did he call you a whore?” Ron blurted out, immediately causing a ruckus as even Harry’s eyes widened in shock at his comment.

“Ron!” Ginny and Hermione scowled simultaneously. Ron shrugged his shoulders, actually unaware he’d made a rude remark until everyone was ready to pounce on him. By some unexplained humor hidden in the stress of witnessing such atrocities, a chuckle actually bubbled sadly from your brims. 

“He called me a tramp, actually. Thank you for that, Ronald,” you sighed, shaking your head at the thought. Elle glared at the boy, leaning her head comfortably upon your shoulder. 

“Just clarifying, sorry,” Ron apologized. Cedric’s public proclamation should have embarrassed the life out of you, but you truthfully didn’t have the capability to consider all of the complicated speculations Cedric had chosen so harshly to comment upon. His words hurt, but you needed to push them out to stand without collapsing at the misery. 

“On that note, I think it’s safe to call it a night,” George called over the group, clasping his hands loudly together. Now that the stragglers had either gone or returned to the dormitories, the room was quite bare, permitting the perception of the shambled mess a simple party had caused. You sent a thankful glance to George, who grinned peacefully back at you. You honestly just wanted the night to be over, after that last inclusion of chaos. You took another gander across the group, missing a few faces which Ginny recognized before you could raise any flags.

“That’s a great idea. Neville took Dean and Seamus back to Gryffindor before ….” Hermione’s voice became low, drowned out in silence while exchanging a concerning glance with Ginny. Ginny cleared her throat, nodding her head towards you, the intent of a hopeful reassuring present, but still clouded with concern. 

“We’ll help you clean,” Ginny offered. You grinned back at her, stretching out a hand that fell to the petite girl’s shoulder. You were glad not all had to witness the fight. Especially not Neville, he was just too sweet to corrupt. 

You sighed, “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary we can handle this.” Elle glanced around, upset that you had dismissed their attempts to help clean with a glance around at the mess that had unraveled in that of Hufflepuff House. It was not as bad as you’d previously witnessed of Gryffindor festivities, but it was no light sweeping job either. The group gave and took swift scans of the others, Harry taking a step forward to catch your attention. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Harry asked, earthly emerald eyes extroverted through careful consideration of the signs scrambled in the dainty details of your person. You confirmed with a shamy smile and pleasant bat of your lashes. 

“Absolutely,” you assured him, still lying but pressuring through a sincere nod accompanied with a soft smile. You were unsure whether or not Harry bought it, but moved on before any of them could object. “It’s late. Get some rest, thank you all for coming, I’m sorry you had to see... that,” you waved them out the passageway, and although they took their time, none objected. 

“Good night!” they seemed to serenade simultaneously while on their way out. Elle dramatically huffed from behind you, hurling herself over to touch her toes and pull her hair back into the fern forest ribbon tied around her left wrist. You and George met one another’s glance and a smile crept upon your lips. You had work to do. 

Elle ventured up to the dormitories to retrieve backup assistance from a few Hufflepuff stragglers that were still awake. George had offered to get started on the floor while you dragged frustrated fingers through your strands and tried to maintain a polite smile. What in the world had you let happen tonight?

In just another few minutes, Elle, Zacharias, Anthony, George and yourself had all begun restoring Hufflepuff to its rightful reigning glory. You joked with the group about finding whoever had toppled one of the planters, your hands stained with soil from trying to scoop and pack the dirt back into place around the sprouts inside. You didn't bother looking at the planter's tag to discover it's owner, Anthony arguing with Zacharias about whether it had been Hannah or Justin's. You reasoned that knowing would just make you feel more guilty about it getting knocked over. You carefully caressed your fingers over the small, spry sprouts and sadly patted the empty pockets of George's jumper, which you had decided to put back in now that the hot temperature created by the dozens of bodies were gone and you were chilly again. 

You were always losing that wretched, wonderful wand of yours, and if you were correct, it was still in somewhat concerning hands. You didn't have pockets in the dress, and to Ginny's genius gathering, she suggested leaving it in the boys' dormitory right after you'd changed. She had tucked it inside Neville's nightstand, without warning him it was there. You were supposed to remember having her fetch it right before the night was up. You were not too worried being wandless for the night. After everything, you wanted an excuse to take you back to Gryffindor to offer official apologies and gratitude sentiments to them all. You were upset you didn't get a chance to say your goodbyes to the boys, but you were content with them not staying to watch the fight that had broken out. 

George continued to check on you while annoying Elle with the way he tidied up. Even when she was flimsy on her own feet, she was still buoyantly bossy when it came to the cleaning, especially the common room. You remembered the lecture you'd gotten after trashing your shared dormitory looking for your insignia last year... Bad memories when it came to recalling the events that followed, but the thought of the lunatic lessons in how to properly organize your wardrobe and such. You were sure you'd happened to doze off on her, which resulted in another sermon that was solved and settled over ice cream. 

You assured the gangly ginger that you were fine, but he was still ill-convinced and even more uninterested in actually cleaning. He noticed you were hushed, but did not want to trouble you with further prying at what had occurred so suddenly the moment you left. A part of George blamed himself for not seeing how pissed Cedric had been, he told himself that he shouldn't have let you go and then gotten so tangled up in the dancing with Elle that he hadn't noticed the commotion until you were screaming and fighting against Fred's hold. It wasn't until he'd trampled over most of the crowd with Elle that he realized Draco was using Cedric as his very own punching bag. As much as he felt responsible, he couldn't let you squander yourself in suffocating thoughts, stressed and scared about this and that, none of which he understood. He heard Cedric call her a tramp and wanted to tackle him just as Malfoy had. George caught you quieting down and immediately tried to present you with distractions or jokes to take your mind off of it. Why did he do it? Simply put, the sweet smile on your lips once you'd recognized what he was doing, and knowing he could bring a heated harmony of flushed fuchsia to your cheeks. He didn't have to know that he also brought blissful butterflies with the sincere sight of that goofy grin, but you appreciated the kind gestures, which happened to be working, to your surprise. 

The guys began to file back upstairs once the room was mindfully mended back into its majestic brilliance. They wished you a goodnight and a final happy birthday, with the clock finally wounding down, even Zacharias offered a polite gesture instead of mockery. It was odd; you'd never asked Cedric if he'd disclosed any of the drama with Draco to his friends. You had trusted him, even after the first time he'd called you out for being with Draco. it was different now-- He was different now. Nevertheless, you were always expecting teasing from the guys, as if Cedric would run rumors around the castle pertaining to your private encounters with Draco. 

Draco. Why were you still on about him? Was it the last glimpse he'd spliced so sickly upon you it seemed to sink under your skin and boil within your blood? Being so harshly detested by the malicious scrutiny of a Malfoy? How could you think so low of yourself? You and Elle were just about done picking the remainder of empty cups from the floor while George simply sprawled himself out across the center of the floor. 

"Wait a second--" you paused, tossing a crumbled cup into the bag Elle held open. You took a gander around the room while both of them watched, puzzled at the discerning look that you'd then repeated. Elle furrowed her brows, George crowning his head in an angle upon the ground to frame himself clearer in your direction, while waiting for any kind of explanation of what you were doing. "Where have my slippers gone?" You asked, still tracing your eyes over the spotless scene. Yet, the floor remained absent of a spare set of slippers. Elle chuckled, slinging the waste bag aside to stand beside you and survey the barren room, just as George did from the floor. 

“You’ve lost your slippers now?” George teased. You slung an empty, crinkled cup at him, while Elle untangled her hair from the ribbon and returned it neatly to her wrist. He rolled over to retrieve the trashed cup and then flung it over his shoulder to Elle, who quickly scourged the bag to dip so that it landed perfectly in the garbage. George applauded to himself while you strolled over. 

“I kicked them off while dancing, I’m not sure,” you admitted, plunking yourself down to sit beside him. George poked your bare feet with his finger and you immediately tucked them under your thighs with a cheeky, crimson smile reflected back at the ginger spread at your side. Elle finished tying the bag and setting it with the other pile of litter from that night, whistling to herself while on her way over to join you both. 

“So that and your wand? I’d assume you would most likely lose that naively nice noggin of yours if it had not been attached,” George remarked, quite accurately. You rolled your eyes and shred shrugging shoulders, admittedly not being allowed to argue since you were sure you would. You welcomed Elle to the free spot at your opposite side by patter on the floor. 

“You would be correct,” you agreed, leaning your back upon Elle’s as she reclined against you. Believe it or not, it was comfortable. George sat forward and gently pulled your hands apart, since they had unconsciously started to painfully pick at the raw skin around your fingernails until you drew blood. You hadn’t even noticed yourself succumbing to the tick until he helped. You sighed, sending him an appreciative nod while moving to sit under your hands to refrain from the anxious habit, George still eyeing you closely. “Is Fred going to be okay with Cedric?” you asked George, a troubled tightness thorned in your throat. Your gaze gaped to the passageway, yearning for indecisive movement. You didn’t hate easily, but if you had, Cedric would surely make the list without a hitch. He was also relatively upset, so sending the gangly ginger with a genuine, guileless light-hearted attitude seemed risky. The last thing you wanted was Cedric losing it again and accidentally hurting Fred because he was just so rangely ruffled up. 

George grinned to himself, nodding enthusiastically, “my brother can handle himself. Freddie may be barely older than me, but we both grew up with three big brothers. He’s not a fighter. He’ll sort out Cedric, even if he is that pissed,” George informed, truthfully unquestioned about his brother’s abilities to defuse situations. When they were home in the Burrow, Fred had his fair share of starting and finishing trouble between the siblings. Even though George had always been more of a mediator while Fred was the instigator, Fred was not just a troublemaker. George was not convinced a couple conversations with Fred would solve all of the conflicts Cedric head, but he would at least make sure the drunken boy did not do anything to get himself into more misfortune. 

Elle was stifled silent for a few seconds, dallying with the ends of her hair as they cascaded down her shoulders, breaking her silence with a small nudge into your backside. “Hey, y/n. You know everything he said… ” Elle’s tone dampened down in dispirited gloom, your head unintentionally hanging down in an incidental mimic of her grave gesture. Elle was attempting to apologize on Cedric’s behalf, as if she could reconcile the friendship for the both of you. Something she had been doing more often, perhaps knowing your closest confidant better than yourself at this point. 

You finished for her, turning to place a hand upon her knee. “Sure, he’s drunk. It seems that the only way to find out what he’s really thinking is having him under something. Apparently drinks work the same as Veratiserum,” you reasoned. George shifted in his seat as well, this time just tossing his head down into your lap. You grinned down at him, rosy red recalled to your cheeks while he cozied down into a comfortable recline. He was surprisingly silent, letting you and Elle have this conversation, but managing to steal just a bit of your attention. George played with your hair, twirling the curls around his finger. 

Elle hummed with a hesitant hush, hindered by clouded optimism. “Ced didn’t mean it. That’s not how he truly feels, he was upset and adding liqueur, the jealousy just pushed him. That’s not him…” Elle tried to convince you, still uncertain with the contortments herself. Cedric had been different since last year, even Elle could grasp how he’d become distant and different. She tapped her hand upon yours in comfort, causing you to turn your palm upwards so that her fingers laced between yours. Elle sighed and rested her head down upon your shoulder, your own hands gently sweeping through his gallant ginger wisps. You wanted to believe her, but your mind was not put at rest.

“Will we ever be okay?” you queried, tilting your own head to lean against her own. George was discreet, trying not to eavesdrop so obviously in your discussion with Elle about another. He still did not have answers to what it was you felt towards him. He should have been given all the answers after he’d helped rekindle the friendship, but you and Cedric did not begin an officially termed relationship. He was fully expecting to hand you off that day, but to him, you remained cheerfully delightful. However, he sensed he was still missing something after somewhat of an odd-encounter with a sleepy and slightly hungover Cedric just that morning of your birthday. Initially, George had written it off as just circumstance, seeing that the room had been a mess and the guys were asleep everywhere, but it was a passably passive aggressive conversation. Regardless, Cedric just didn’t believe it was his place to come across as invested or dictative in the matter. 

"Of course you will be alright," Elle murmured in a most uncomforting tone. "Things are just changing rather quickly, I think it’s just a part of growing up. You are both becoming your own person, but you should not worry, you and Cedric have been friends for so long, what could really change other than time? It might just be he's probably not accustomed to sharing you with anyone other than me," she nudged her head into your own and George’s eyes snapped open, interest debated in his surveying stare between you. 

"Surely, a different kind of sharing, right?" George questioned, cocking a brow up at Elle from your lap. You were about to chuckle at the notion of George taking one of Elle’s comments as anything other than a joke, when Elle flicked the brink of her nose with her pinky. 

"Oh no, Weasley! Not scared of a little competition? If we're keeping record, I met her first," she turned and pressed a playful peck into your hair. You prodded her lightly with your elbow, but your attention was captured by George’s expression, which illuminated into a mystically magnificent revelation of excitement. 

“Oh! Bloody hell, that is brilliant!” George exclaimed eagerly, his eyes sparkled at the thought suggested jokingly by the girl on your side. George pressed his hands together at his chest in a begging sign. "Not scared-- just intrigued beyond my wildest fantasies-- Tell me more! I beg of you, Hufflepuff beauties!" George pleaded, dramatically. Elle’s light laughter lightened the room into a familiar warmth, a contagious chorus chiming from your own brims as well. 

"Georgie!" you scowled, rolling your eyes at the sarcastic idea planted by Elle. You wouldn’t put it past her, but she did enjoy insinuated wisecracking. It usually just made people uncomfortable, the exact opposite of what was happening now as George was nearly drooling at the thought. "She is quite honestly joking--” 

George silenced you by reaching a hand upwards and holding a hovering digit just over your lips. "No, don't ruin it for me! My imagination is already illustrating it for me and-- Oh, Merlin's beard is it glorious--!" George’s tone was awed-amazement, his eyes spaced out and shimmering in the distance like he was actually dreaming up the portrait of you and Elle. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so enthusiastically exhilarated, his face animated in admiration while yours heated profusely. 

You leaned forward to nip gently at his finger, covering his face with your hands and flustering about his adoring praise. "I beg your pardon, George Weasley?" you scoffed, the three of you tumbling in loud laughter. Elle stretched her legs out from under her, sure to kick George’s side while popping up onto her feet. 

“On that note,” Elle cackled, giving your hand a parting squeeze and then letting it fall to your side. “Boy is it late. I should really turn in for the night,” she winked blatantly, obviously the most unsubtle one person could be. “Happy Birthday again, lovely. Good night, George!” Elle called while on her way up to bed. You thanked her one last time, George muffling a farewell under your palm. 

You laughed, removing your hand from over his face so George’s charismatically charming attributes beamed gaily up at you. George’s grin grew when he could see the dainty details of your face again. “Well, I’m sure that could have gone worse,” he remarked ironically, still settled snugly in the cross of your lap. 

“You think so?” you chuckled, brushing his hair into place. He would probably be the only one that thought so. Granted, you had a wonderful time before dire discrepancies slithered under your skin. Even after odd, contentious circumstances cluttered clear, the night just had more to offer you by warranting Cedric’s conflicts. You were positive the night would have gone about vastly different if not for Draco’s presence, what you couldn’t see coming was Cedric. 

“I do… No one died right?” George offered in a questioned phrase. You bobbed your head with a glad giggle. Thankfully? There was definitely grief given in the anger that unleashed between Cedric and Draco, but it didn’t appear either had gotten seriously hurt. They had a fair share of physical wounds which made you queasy, but neither needed to be carried straight to the infirmary to disturb Madam Pomfrey at such a late hour. George’s curiosity got the better of him, “what got into Malfoy?”

Your stomach churned bitterly at the mention of his name, although George was frankly curious, it still produced a nauseating twist in your gut. The room was starting to spiral and your face had fallen into a vacant, uneasy daze. You were unsure of how to answer, your throat dry from the part of your lips that scorned speechlessly. “I don’t know, my brain really hurts from thinking about it,” you lied, trying to clear your throat and cough your way into persuasion, aiming to hopefully get George to dismiss the topic. It worked for the sake of the conversation, but your mind was far more uncooperative when it came to expelling thoughts permitting Draco. 

You were in your head again, and George was able to perceive the yielding grip you had over your own admissions. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you were struggling behind those beautiful eyes of yours and it disheartened him with worry. Similarly, he would have understood your primary drift with Draco, expunged of emotion and withheld by the refusal to reveal what secrets scarred the solitude of your mind. Secrets that would change all of this. Secrets you’d rather slain and slaughter rather than take acknowledgement of their ghastly gospels. George’s head rose from your lap as he did, straightening himself into a seated position in front of you. He didn’t mimic your seated position, simply kicking out his legs to either side of your knees and then reaching over to drag you into his lap instead. He was bringing you back into reality, tucking a strand swayed in your eyes securely behind your ear to influence your existence back into this moment. “Did you manage to have somewhat of a good time? Squabble and such aside,” George asked, raising an inquisitive brow. You nodded immediately, smile warmly wandering onto your lips in twists of a brick-tinted blush, hands falling upon his shoulders.

“I had a great time. It was all truly wonderful, thank you,” your reply radiated through the happy curls of your lips. A glowing grin gratified upon George’s lips at your sincerities, hands still resting on the thighs of your tights gliding up the angles of your sides to rest around the small of your back. He leaned in and your inhale caught prior to his lips planting upon your own, a kindred kiss keened on your lips. The butterflies returned in your stomach, batting and blossoming in blurry bounces in your stomach. You were smiling similar to the sun while his bashful brims borrowed the breath from your lungs. You thought about vanishing in his arms, dealing with the longing notion to just fade away into this façade and the flight of fantasy romanced in radiant raptures of adored attachment. You wanted to untie the knots Draco had dastardly drowned you in and rip the embedded bonds to blithering bits; the forgiveness of a flaunted freedom. His lips were kind and worthy to dote upon. George was not rough or rude, nor did he demand to dominate you into the ground. The wacky Weasley wonder kissed you as you should be kissed, in earnest devotion to your delight.

You tipped backwards, just enough to rest your forehead upon his own. George grinned at this, pulling away only to press a kiss to the space between your brows. You giggled and his grin solely grew, “you know,” he started in an informative tone, causing you to raise your head to meet his glad gaze. “You’ve got just about an hour left in your birthday. Any final wishes?” George was not aware of the complex entanglement he had released by such a simple question, quelled quaintly until the words evanesced in your head and you were spiraling in his eyes.

You were taken back, flashes of former times inverting backwards before your eyes while swirling in submergence of George's gleaming hues. Diagon Alley, detention, the library, every fit of uncontrollable laughter, every stupid story, every cup of tea, every keen kiss, and every bundle of buoyant butterflies blossomed in your belly-- Every potential possibility he could offer. Everything you wanted; a good love with a sincere boy that genuinely brought you happiness. Here he sat, your legs crossed just over his lap, years of attainable, adoring adventures ahead of you. No contention of controversy or inclinations of fidelity, no popular perfidies prisoned around his neck. You knew there was no reason to worry about him being violent, his hands were not at your throat, piercing your skin with cool metal bands engraved with serpents. You didn't have to compromise or hurt for this kind of easy endearment. It was so simple to be with him. He was noticeably sweet on you and more of a romantic than he'd let on. You weren't sure what it was, but you could see yourself being loved by him, and a blessing it would be. Other than the sound of the crackling wood alight in the fireplace, you could inspire yourself to the muffled, muted melody of his heartbeat just a few inches away, but barely over the sound of your own tonedeaf, troubled thumping. This was George Weasley. George didn't bring you pain, he didn't deteriorate you, he didn't make any attempt into your panties, he didn't shout or bring tears to your eyes for his own amused pleasure; George was not Draco. 

George was not Draco. 

The montra melody mused itself over and over again, and your smile faltered. The mangled mental music mocked the manipulated mystery of truth before you could even render the realization, an anarchy of admittance abrupted the arrogant obscurities you had attempted to avoid. You were blinded; a veil vestige clouding the aching actualities which alone had delusionally damned upon yourself. All of this, it was all a denouncing device of your own decadent deceit. You placed your hand upon his cheek and caressed your thumb over the soft skin, searching the serene security of his pleasant, pecan pearls as they pondered at your hesitation Everything you ever wanted, and it was slipping from your fingers with the mere mutter of your voice. “Perhaps one odious object out of my grasp,” you breathed through the distraught devastation. The weight on your chest began crushing down upon you, causing you to drop your head into the shoulder of George’s shirt. You laid your forehead into the fabric of his jumper and tried to alleviate the tight exhale trapped in your chest. Why were you doing this? How could you do this? This was George, the most charming, respectable divinity of deception and trickery, but truly harboring an amiable affection towards you. You didn’t deserve him nor his love.

What were you going to tell him? That beyond every weary and wise sentiment from your friends who had determined the truth, you still could not explain how every kiss was empty, and every touch was frigid? You would sound mad, fumbling to explain how you regrettably pined for the bitter bite of a blistering touch or searingly scorched kiss. What could you say? Your imagination was failing you and you could no longer find fulfillment in opening your eyes after a kind kiss, only to be truantly tormented by the absence of pale platinum strands? Or that these last few weeks had been agony because you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about anything but Draco Malfoy’s wellbeing? That after all he had done to scorn your soul, you were still at his beckoned disposal? The lullabies of blatant lies lacerated rehearsals inside your head and a sickness swept through your insides just hearing the memory of his voice so many weeks ago; “I need you.” 

He had claimed it was solely for the influence of getting into your pants and there was not a dust of doubt that could have you challenge his reasoning. He was manically manipulative like that and you, better than anyone, knew how much he derived pleasure and amusement from the twisted thoughts he’d be responsible for placing. It wasn’t the words that wounded through you; it was the kiss. Dozens of Draco’s dull, lustful kisses to compare to, but none like that. It was purely passionate and it haunted you in unmeasurable misery. The misfortunes of mad messes were his fault, but you were abandoned to rectify its entirety without the slightest direction, just a silly bond you were honestly surfeited by. 

“You are... so good, George Weasley,” you murmured into the threads of George’s shoulder. Good could not even properly describe the extent at which George’s personal brilliance held genuine greatness. He was a gentleman with the capabilities of love, and you were a sad storm about to wreak disaster in the purity of a true friend. 

George’s brows tugged together in a stumped trench, “among obvious other things,” George blinked, still trying to understand what your response entailed. He was coming up with nothing, so he inspected you closer, angling his body differently so he could catch your gaze in the roll of your head on his shoulder. “Are you pissed?"

The corner of your lips tilted upwards and you scouched yourself backwards and off his lap, letting a space breathe between you while reconvening a seated position on the floor instead of his lap. "Not nearly enough to manage this," you admitted. You had been drinking all night, but it seemed to sober out of your system at the first signs of danger. You were still on edge, but possibly the clear exhilaration was wearing off, perhaps you could blame that rather than yourself. 

George still puzzled a perplexed brow, “and what would 'this' be?" he asked, now even more baffled with your further pulling away. He was trying to put an explanation together without any information on why or what you were doing, your vague counters really confounding him more. 

Your heart sank, the reality of all of this suddenly scattering your nerves. "An apology," you confessed, the words growing sorely sharp in your throat. You had to pull your eyes down to avoid a further fracture of pain in your heart, eyes already stinging with a cruel crystalline catalyst. ‘Rough’ was an understatement for how difficult this was to get out. 

"What have you done now?" George questioned, reaching out in an attempt to lay his gentle palm upon your cheek. You caught his hand before it reached your skin, letting your fingers enclose safety around his hand. Your head remained down, fingers gently tracing over the soft skin of his hand, memorizing the mellow comfort as if it would be the very last time. 

"Something I will most likely live to regret, but is hopelessly wretched to ignore," you muttered honestly, but with great indecision to George. 

"Are you sure you're not wasted? You happen to have me at a loss; none of this is making a bit of sense,” George was beginning to think you were just talking with no context because you were drunk. You brought your head up to meet his eyes and a piece of you broke in the exchange upwards. He was so sweet it actually hurt. 

"I wish,” you uttered in a wallowed whisper, a soft giggle parting with the tears in your eyes. You squeezed George’s hand before he could interrupt, immediately far more concerned with the tear tracing down your cheek. “George, you have made me feel so great these last few weeks, you never fail to make me so happy and I am at a hopeless loss of words to explain how grateful I will always be.”

George’s grin faltered, happy with your admission, but sensing only the worst with your reaction. He was aware you were going through a rather difficult time after that night with Cedric, but what he didn’t understand was that he was the only person you had in those weeks to truly keep you sane. He was your light in the lonely times after dramatics and conflicts, but he always managed to keep you cheerful. George was having better luck at reading the signs, his voice still questioning, "I can’t help but feel like there is a 'but' approaching?" 

You confessed everything in a sorrowful swoon of your head, letting your lips balance upon your hands as they rested between you. You breathed out the words on your hands, "you would be correct. I didn't realize how hard this would be.” You didn't want to do this. You knew you needed to get the words out, but it felt impossible to do without crying the entire time. 

George flexed his finger between yours to tilt your head up again, just enough to meet your eyes. "Perhaps then avoiding it would be best for us both?" 

A sad smile spread across your lips and you nodded, another tear breaking just over the brink of your eyes. “It would be easier… so much easier. And there is a chance it could be the right thing for me, but it would be unfair to us both. I just can't do this to you. I care for you too much to simply lie for our benefit. I could fall for you, and it would be so wonderful to let myself be so selfishly loved by you. You're so much better…” your voice trailed off, cries still stuck in your throat. You just studied his face, begging not to be the cause for the churning look of regret slowly scraping across his features. You mustered through the grief, “I know how great you are and how good you would be to me... But it would be wrong of me,” you paused again, a dry drowning in your throat halting the truth you were still trying to ignore. You thought that if you said it, maybe there was a chance you would accept it, but it still felt so strange. “For the reason that I can't seem to rid myself of these awful feelings for him. I'm so sorry, Georgie, but I can’t allow myself to love you like this, because I seem to have already fallen for him, without knowing and without wanting to. I'm so sorry..." you let yourself cry out the last few words, a distraction drawn in silence that occupied George’s appearance. He was trying to process your words, but every second he took felt like agony. You didn’t want to hurt him, but right now, you felt like you were the cause of everything bad in the world. You had been holding your breath since the utterance of the last word, just eagerly expecting the worst out of the best possible fellow. 

George’s eyes finally flashed back to your own, but his lips didn’t move. You watched the blank stare that inspected the candor confession confounded upon the details of your face, and then a weight fell from your shoulders. Through the slight devastation hidden in his hues, George’s goofy grin guided back to his lips, "Of course, I can't say I'm not upset because I do really fancy you, but who would I be if I stood in the way of someone you already have feelings for? Do not apologize, if you do truly feel for another, what are you still doing bumming it with me, young Huffle?" He used your hands to nudge your shoulder, playfully and you just attended to the wave of alleviating easing that tidied its way through you. George used the grasp in your hands to draw you both to your feet, lean in to press a polite peck to your head, leaving a friendly warmth upon your forehead while pulling his hand from yours, “get on then." 

You were speechless, but a soft smile serene on your lips, just reiterating how much you did not deserve him. You bowed your head, shaking the mournful tears and rejoicing in the negligent numb that diminished as well. George Weasley was selfless. You blinked the tears from your eyes and smiled up at him, almost immediately melting into a hug that you had thrown onto him. George almost didn’t catch you, but both of you sang out laughter simultaneously at the gesture. His arms enclosed lightly around your back and you sniffled into his sweater, "thank you.” George was letting you go as peacefully as you could ask for. Your arms tightened around him, and you appreciated the last few comforting instances of the embrace before falling back to your feet. “You are absolutely the best, George Weasley," you announced, wiping your palm across your cheeks to rid them of tears.

George grinned down at you, a broadening bow in his shoulders which lifted proudly with his chin, "I know. It is going to be real shit getting over me, but you have to stay strong, cheerful child," George joked casually.

You laughed, drawing your intertwined fingers to your chest, once again illustrating your profound appreciation, “thank you, George, I really want to express how--" 

George flailed his arms about to cut you off, giving you a gentle shove towards the door. "You can praise me later! Get a move on, sappy! Clocks ticking," George exclaimed. 

You laughed, nodding your head quickly. "Right, Right! I will see you later?" you asked, raising a brow towards the gangly ginger with a slow step backwards.

George bobbed his head, shooing you along with his hand. To your blessings, he called after you, “of course, you're not getting free of me that easy, kiddo. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you casted him one last glance, a look full of grateful cherishing through an abundance of admiration, and then disappeared up the steps. You left George, taking the stairs in long leaps and emerging silently from the side of the portrait. You began walking, keeping close to the walls and trying to take advantage of the shadows for coverage. What you were going to say to Draco was at the bottom of your list of concerns, prioritized under making it to Slytherin without being caught and actually getting in without the secret phrase. You were fortunate enough to have history with the painting protecting the passageway, so your goal was pretty much just begging to see Draco and possibly causing some turmoil if access was denied. You were worried about making it to Slytherin since it was also a weekend, but after going the entire night without a little authoritative disturbance from staff, you were in better spirits. You saved your questions about what the Weasley twins had done with Filch, well aware that knowing would probably be worse on your emotions. Other than slightly creeping you out, you really had no issues with Mr. Filch, nor his strange cat. 

You picked up the pace, dragging your hand along the wall to keep yourself on the right path directly to Slytherin. You praised slightly dipsy you for deciding to ditch the slippers, at a greater advantage with the bounce of your bare feet on the cold stone. You wanted to see him, you wanted to tell him-- you needed to tell him… that you completely lost your mind. Draco was dangerous, nothing good could come from deciding to be with him, but you really did not care. You listened to the delirious delusions of your heart and objectively obeyed it's call towards Slytherin.

You needed him. 

You were sprinting on your toes, divulged to the drifting debate to turn back in your head. Why did you need him? By what vicious vex were you at fault for such a foolish fairytale? You dreamt of perfection in a happy ending and by some ironic vengeance, it almost felt like a joke to be bonded to Draco Malfoy. If you were water, he was a tornado infused with fire. If you were the calm summer breeze, he was some bizarre catastrophic natural disaster with nothing but ruin in his wake. Of all the things Draco learned to despise, you'd taken high privilege upon that list. And you would be damned if you were not at the top. Unlike anyone he'd ever met, you were better at deciphering the chaotic calatisyms of his constant innermost conflicts. You read him like the pages of a children's book and his act was most certainly not blinding you to who he was. You were clueless to the intent behind your connection, but all you could do was surrender to your own feelings. It wasn't forgiveness, but acceptance that had you flying through the halls with a strange, serene smile cemented to your brims.

You were floating, and then you were falling. You were suddenly on your rear, palms scraping the stone beneath you to stop the jounce that came with colliding with what appeared to be a less-solid wall. Had you really been so spaced out in your head that you had fully ran into a wall? 

"Miss l/n, out after hours again?" You froze at the sound of Snape's voice echoing through your current place in the corridor. Your eyes went wide, a paleness picking through your nerves as you peeled yourself up from the ground and dusted off your dress with a rather poor attempt to avoid Snape's scowl. What was he doing out so late? Without a watch, all you could estimate was you still had less than a quarter to midnight. And now came not only another sign to retreat and abandon this foolish idea, but an obstacle that definitely stood in the way of reaching Slytherin before the witching hour. 

You swallowed the stunned lump, dusting off the hem of your skirt with a teetering side step. "I’m so sorry I was not paying attention, all a misunderstanding, sir. I'm sorry, but I have to--" your excuse was cut off, Professor Snape observing your motion in the incorrect conduct away from your own house. His eyes narrowed upon you, arms folding in disapproval with the edges of his cloak. 

"Somewhere you're needed at this hour? Away from your own house? I must be mad since a decent student such as yourself knows that is against the rules," Professor Snape declared sharply, frown affixed on his pale features. You were running out of time and excuses. You staggered on your own feet, holding your breath while your feet took another defiant tread. 

You cleared your throat and attempted to hold your head high, wanting to cower and accept his passive warning to abide by the school rules, but not as much as you wanted to get to Slytherin. This was not like you and Snape was catching onto your aberrantly abnormal etiquette. "You are welcome to hold me responsible at a later time, I really need to see him right now, Professor," you announced, faintly less strict as his own tone, but not uttered in recoiled retention. The disapproval diffused in disappointment at the vague mention of Draco. 

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, glare glowering at your blatant refusal. "I hope you aren't that foolish,” he sternly stated. “I can't allow you to be slipping into another house this late, surely you have been taught better," Snape raised, fully intending to call your bluff, but met with surprise when you followed through with another step around him. 

You nodded at him, pleading through a dire gaze up at him. "I have been, and I am aware, but I will mindlessly accept the risk. Please, sir, it’s imperative I speak to him--" you stopped the second his hand lifted, your sentence dying in your throat with an uneasy resistance bolded through brittle bones. You were surprised he hadn’t pointed out your lack of shoes as well, which you believed was partially due to the darkness. 

Snape took a second to speak, inspecting your demeanor critically. It was impossible to decrypt the dull depictions dreading his appearance in the dim darkness. Snape’s dismayed disappointment voiced in a deterrenced discretion, "I ask you to heed in taking caution, I have just taken accounts of an altercation Mr. Malfoy was reportedly involved in. He was not alone when I left him.” A slight cordial cringe cut through your insides for two reasons; Snape was allowing you to get past him and had actually taken it upon himself to offer a word of apprising advice, and Draco was not alone. As much as you should have been taken back by Snape alluding to awareness regarding the incident between Draco and Cedric, it was the least of your worries. 

You took another step backwards, "I am not surprised,” you breathed dulcetly, delicately disguising back into the shadows behind Snape. “I will report to your office first thing Monday morning to attend to my consequences, but I--" 

Snape interrupted you again, glare scorched upon you just over his shoulder in a way that made your stomach actually churn in the reflection of his disappointment. This was senile, cruel Professor Snape who seemed to detest children, why were you so bothered by his resented irritation towards you right now? Possibly because you were not used to challenging Professors, or potentially because he’d shocked you with his displays of leniency and ambivalent offerings of assistance when you needed it. Of all the Professors that could have stopped you, why were you, to some uncertain extent, relieved to find that it had been Snape? "Very well. Monday at first light," Snape agreed in a tone that had you questioning whether it was anger or annoyance. To some degree, his aggrieved attitude reminded you of Draco. 

An unlikely appreciative smile sauntered to your lips, bowing your head to Snape, "thank you, Professor Snape.” You turned on your heel, ready to run the remainder of the way, but twirled back around by Snape calling your name. 

"Oh, and l/n?" he remarked with his back towards you, swift steps carrying a distance between you. It was odd and most insolent, unable to make out his face while he parted. 

"Yes, sir?" you tried whisper-shouting after him, about to hurry down the hall after him to discover what conclusion he wanted to announce while walking away. 

"Happy Birthday," he uttered, pausing in his steps to cast a glance back at you. The distress had decomposed, and not a single soul would take your word, nor would a relatively sober loon, but in the dim shadows of the corridor, you could have sworn Professor Snape grinned at you, before he disappeared into the darkness. 

You were stunned in the center of the corridor just lost in the shady silhouettes of the castle’s dark contours, blinking in the dark to try and make sense of the last sentiment passed by Snape. He was already gone when you finally whispered, "thank you, Professor.”

And then you were off again, not a second more of consideration or reasonable doubts upon how Professor Snape came to be aware it was your birthday. 

You were out of breath by the time you reached Slytherin, slipping to a stop that nearly jeopardized your balance. You threw your hair over your shoulder just as the sound of dismayed, condemning hissing bled aloud from the portrait. You cringed, interrupting the disapproval drowns with a raised, heaving hand. “I don’t have time to argue, I need to speak with him. It’s urgent and of great importance.” Upset would be an understatement of how embarrassed you would be if you managed to get to Slytherin, even after encountering Professor Snape, but ultimately failed because of a portrait. You were betting on it being Draco and really didn’t see the sense in being stopped by anything else. 

“Here to shout some more? You would disrupt the entire house, more than hosting some wretched party. Be gone, girl,” the portrait practically spat back at you. In addition to the catalog of events that were failing to surprise you this evening, receiving an infuriating attitude from a plain painting was rather low on the list. 

You tilted your frame in an odd tilt to tend to the cramp in your side, honestly not fond of running. “I will get in to see him one way or another, please don’t make this difficult. I’m not here to fight,” you explained in a precise plea of your fingers brought to your chest. You tried to catch your breath, silent consideration from the portrait critically inspecting your impression. 

“If you are lying, your consequences will be more than the revoking of my leniency. Professor Snape will be eager to learn about your deviancy,” the portrait rasped ruggedly. You didn’t know whether to take it as a warning or a bitter threat, but swallowed the hesitation that came with the passageway unlocking for you.

“Threaten all you want, I’m used to it and relatively unfazed,” you shot back, reaching a hand towards the entry as it was immediately snapped back shut. You flashed an annoyed glare over the rim of the portrait, and a cruel but expectant interlude awaited it’s features. You sighed aloud, trying to hide your unironic eye roll while muttering a polite, “thank you.” The portrait mimicked your eye roll, knowing your gratitude was hollow, but reopening for you again. 

You slipped in and rushed down the stairs so quickly, you were not surprised when you missed a step on the decline and nearly rolled down the remainder. You wanted to blame the drinks, but you were honestly humored by the quite embarrassing idea of falling into Slytherin. You heard your father's laughter in your head when he referred to your clumsiness as a fault you could blame on your mother. Your mother would always click her tongue and whack his shoulder with the newspaper she'd stolen from him. Then he would apologize and kiss her cheek, almost selling the apology if not for a sneaky wink to you behind your mothers back. You missed home, but unfortunately did not have time to dwell. You caught yourself on the railing, almost appreciating the close fall as it did help you down the stairs faster, but also brought you into clear view of the Slytherin common room, all but completely empty. 

As they had been that day not so long ago, Draco and Charlotte were practically sitting on top of one another with their tongues tangled. It irked you that he was privileged with power after having his father pull strings so Draco could be given prefect quarters he was not mandated to share, but was still reluctant to use them for sensitive situations, definitely something similar to snogging would warrant. Yet, rather than make use of such charity, Draco would rather make a scene to flaunt their... relationship? You ignored your head hurting from the complications and precise pain pinged from simply thinking of them in a relationship. For reasons you could not comprehend with your own being, that wounded worse than the vision of them as they were now. 

Your heart was still racing when you shifted upon your feet at the bottom of the stairs, not granting yourself a moment to catch your breath or retreat at the inconvenient interruption you just had on the pair. You cleared your throat to signal your interruption of their private performance, receiving an expected jump from Charlotte, who pulled away like a sensible being, while you could have sworn you saw a sick, scandalous smirk tempt to etch itself proudly upon Draco's lips. He didn't turn at the sound of your attendance appeared in the doorway, completely unaffected by your intrusion. 

“Excuse me,” you uttered just polite enough to warrant the intrusion. You directed a polite grin to your lips that mirrored on Charlotte's when she recognized you, even offering an accidentally awkward wave of your fingers.

“Oh! Birthday belle, nice to see you?” Charlotte greeted you, still as pleasant as ever. You wondered what it was, other than her remarkably exceptional beauty that attracted him. Perhaps it was just that; Charlotte was the more acceptably appealing. You weren't surprised by that. You may have been mad or possibly full of yourself (as if Draco was wearing off on you) but you could attest to the likeness in your features. You were not about to get a measuring stick out and take part in actually comparing the scientific scales of your similarities, but it was definitely questionable.

“To what do we owe the most agonizing disturbance?” Draco sneered, stretching his arm around Charlotte in an ostentatiously annoying display, done solely to get a reaction out of you. “As if the burden of your birthday was not enough.” 

“I’m so sorry, Charlotte. If I may, can I speak with Draco for a moment?” you dismissed Draco’s spiteful commentary, focusing your attention onto the blonde coddled in his lap, even when Draco dared dangerous daggers in your direction at the mention of his name. 

“That’s not necessary, I would much rather have my eyes clawed from my--“ Draco denounced dramatically, suspended at the height of his menacing proposal by Charlotte dropping a finger to his lips. Something so little that enforced a flare of resentment to spark inside of you while you still tried to sell your loyalty to the claim she didn’t bother you. It wasn’t her that did bother you, it was her and Draco. 

“Of course!” Charlotte sang beautifully, immediately resolving your frown as she adjusted her skirt and rose from the sofa. “Thank you for the party, it was entertaining! Goodnight,” she reached down and dropped a departing kiss on Draco's lips before she floated past you and disappeared towards the dormitories. You uttered a passing goodnight, watching until she vanished, leaving you with Draco in the solidarity of Slytherin's common room. Draco reclined comfortably, turning his back on you with an annoyed groan sounding from his lips. 

“Have you dropped by to start another screaming match regarding what your dear Diggory friend had coming? Drunk arse can’t handle his liquor nor control his temper,” he taunted, staring straight ahead rather than turning to face you. He wanted you as far and out of sight as possible. 

“I’m not here to pick anything, I need to speak with you,” you answered honestly, carrying yourself around the rim of the couch to face him. You were still nervously scratching at the skin around your fingers. You wanted to shudder and sink away from his harsh words, but you simply ignored the uncomfortable quiver in your knees and ceded in the struggle to stay strict upon firm feet. You regretted facing him, a piercing ping of pity troubled through your veins at the sight of Draco lounged over the sofa with his features slightly more visible in the dim glow of the dying fire. In addition to the torn skin scraped over his knuckles, Draco had the early purple pigments of a bruise forming on the height of his left cheek, a gash just above his right eyebrow, and the residue of dried blood just under his nose, as if he had tried to already cleanse the new wound but gave up. Your heart sank into involuntary, sympathetic sorrow, immediately wanting to drag him to Madame Pomfrey to get all of the visible wounds tended to correctly. As it happened, you felt foreignly faint, though it seemed sparingly strange, you literally sensed sickness in your being at the minimally mangled image of Draco reclined so carelessly. 

You hated it, but you were actually quite worried for Cedric after seeing how awful Draco's injuries already appeared. Then again, Cedric was the kind of kid that got cuts and bruises for being gracelessly uncoordinated and eager to do things he wasn't supposed to. As children, he would get hurt and then immediately have to comfort you because you'd sob your head off seeing him even with a tiny scratch. You remembered when he came home on holiday after his first year at Hogwarts and you had been playing in the meadow beside his house when he tried to impress you with a trick he learned on his broom and he fell from a couple feet in the air. You were screaming and weeping as if he had died right before you, but he laughed through the pain to assure you he was alright. He just had a bump on his head and a scratch on his elbow, but you were crying as if he'd broken every bone in his body. 

Cedric didn't fight. He was never a fighter, he was always a calm peacemaker or mediator when it came to trouble. Sure, he would step in to defend his friends or ease tensions, but he was never one to actually interject or begin a fight. You now understood why; other than his own moral compass, he was not great when it came to physical scraps. You could compare him to Draco in that instance, back when you had previously believed with your whole being that Draco Malfoy would shy away from a fight in a heartbeat after years of empty threats and big talk. You were proved wrong. 

You were staring too long, trying to absorb his current demeanor without passing out or actually getting sick in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Draco’s wicked scoff echoed off the walls, “shall I use your own words against you? Some idiotic idiom about despising the odds of speaking with you voluntarily?” Draco humored, drawing himself off the couch and straight through you. It was difficult to quickly discover your balance after his shoulder knocked into yours, but it was certainly more arduous to take no notice of the needles kindled under the surface of your skin at the exchange. Draco must have felt it too, silent for a moment as he lowered himself down beside the mantle of the fireplace to desist your distraction. “I have nothing to say to you and less I would fancy hearing from you. Can you show yourself out, or would you like me to handle that on your behalf as well?” 

You thought it was odd, but noticed Draco’s rather poor attempts at avoidance, following him in smaller steps to the fireplace. You kept yourself a few steps away, “I have no intention of leaving without properly speaking with you. Can you drop the arrogant attitude for just one second--?”

Draco snickered, dipping his fingertips in the searing scarlet ash and then rising back to his feet. “I’m afraid you should know by now that this is all me, doll,” Draco turned to face you, only catching your gaze for a moment as he leaned his back onto the stone wall with a foot kicked behind him. He diverted his attention to the cindered ember shards currently burning the tips of his fingers. “What do you have to say? I won’t guarantee I’ll listen.”

“I am well aware,” you muttered just under your breath, not letting Draco challenge your improper utterance. “You’re all about acting tough, but there’s no crowd, Draco. No one is here to abide by your amusing acts, let it go, I beg of you,” you searched the smallest, empty execrations of his faulty features for a weakness or a sign that he was there beyond just his ego. All of his effort was truly weld into the resented refusal to look at you. 

Draco exhaled, the annoyance harboring in heightened hatred. “Are you going to talk like you so nobly declared while intruding on my evening, or are you going to continue to beg?” Draco questioned, descending a hand through his strands and continuing with a smirk upon his lips before you could reply. “I’m not complaining, I would just like to know if you’ve actually not completely ruined my plans for this evening.” 

You were at war with yourself, desperately trying to suffocate the crimson color uncontrollably surging to break upon your cheeks. His snide sarcasm was not warranted, but did suffice in getting a tense tetter out of you in addition to the inner unrest barricaded between your thighs. You scowled Draco and yourself simultaneously, “get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. I don’t want to beg, I’m only pleading for you to be serious when I need you to be.” 

His hysterics hailed the space between you, a sick snigger seeping through his irritated impatience. “What? I’m not serious enough for you now? That’s quite hilarious considering you’ve chosen the most immature idiot to waste your time,” Draco snapped, kicking himself off the wall and taking a valorously vain tread in your direction. The rage was radiating off of him now, only confusing your own emotions more because you encountered strain at the depiction of his tone; was it aggravation or envy? 

“Don’t talk about--” you stopped yourself, knowing that proclaiming George by name would only drive the agony exasperated by Draco, the last thing you wanted to give him was fuel for a fight you had no intentions about being a part of. You stared up at him, trying to balance yourself into the poised position of his temper. You spoke softly, “why is it that you, unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, can make me so unhappy with myself?”

Draco’s glare grimaced a glinted glance from your bare feet to your eyes once more, taking in your assertion with an unpleasant pride about his cocky characteristics. “It’s obviously an incredibly impressive skill of mine,” Draco shot back, taking another step past you. “Since you continue to whine on about being so unhappy, do us both the remarkable favor and piss off! There is nothing in your way but yourself.”

You followed him, reaching for his arm and only met with him yanking away from you. He kept his chin high, but found every excuse not to look at you, as if studying the new intriguing designs of the ceiling. You wanted to ridicule him for it, but he was managing the manipulation of your thoughts. He was distracting you without any intent, just controversial commentary he knew would get under your skin. “You’re wrong! This is so much more than just me! You continue to take no responsibility, failing to realize that this is just as much your problem as it is mine,” you hurried after him. You threw yourself in the doorway which would lead him to his quarters, stopping him from escaping so easily without proper settlement.

“And what problem is that, darling?” Draco’s jaw tightened and now he was over you again, barely a foot separating you and you lost the ability to catch your breath. His scent was so strong, you just wanted to let everything go and dissolve into the rich aroma, but Draco was losing his command over his temper. He was loud and “What is it you claim I have so much to account for— You want to talk? Alright then! Fine, let’s talk! How long did it take for him to get into your pants?” He was fast to catch your wrist as it snapped up, the emotion stinging sorely in your stomach. Your heart was beating in your ears and as much as you tried to choke them down, tears tempted the rim of your eyes.

You flinched your jaw, a dastardly delight dancing through your wrist as it was clenched tightly in Draco’s hold. You didn’t drop his gaze, blinking the blurry droplets from your vision while staring up at him, a warning tone matched with you tugging your wrist free. “Don’t speak about George in that manner! You haven’t a clue what you’re—“

Draco turned his back on you again, stomping away with you just a couple small steps behind. You couldn’t get too close, still competing with his own ignorance. “You can make all the wretched bullshit lies and excuses you want, but I won’t have it! Go bother someone that will listen to your bloody stories because it will not be me,” Draco sneered, cruelly. You tried to bite back the tears again, shaking your head while combing stressful digits aggressively through your hair. Only one person on the planet could make you so frustrated and he stomped around Slytherin like a child throwing a tantrum. 

“You don’t understand, I didn’t come here to—“ you sighed, immediately interrupted again by Draco whirling around to face you. His smirk was twisted in an absurdly concerning comedy, hands thrown up while backing you into the wall. 

“Fight? There’s nothing to fight about, your buddy Cedric handled the extent of that for both of us this evening.” Draco scoffed, smirk growing with a shrug emitted from his shoulders, “I guess I’m not the only one that wasn’t too happy to witness the theatrics of you and that wretched Weasley.”

That was when you lost it, you were sick of his rash remarks. You set your hands upon Draco’s chest and shoved him away, but didn’t cower into the safety of the wall. You advanced upon Draco, your own trouble turning inside you. “You claim to know the truth, but you’re as blind as a bloody bat, Draco Malfoy!” you exclaimed, unaware that the tear had already raced down your cheek while Draco watched in amusement. “I have spent my time with him because he has made me truly happy! It is not hard or impossible to be with him! He’s not ashamed of me, nor do I have to try and prove myself worthy— but do you want to know what really kills me?” Your voice was breaking, honesty admissions just rambling free from your lips while Draco yawned.

Draco shrugged his shoulders carelessly once more, cracking out his knuckles. “Honestly, I’ve blocked most of this out and don’t have a single regard to a word you’re saying, but something tells me I’m going to be forced to hear it nonetheless!” Draco exclaimed in annoyance, about to turn away from you again.

You lunged for his hand and dragged him back to face you. “The truth is I can’t seem to get over you,” you confessed, giving your heart straight access to your lips. You didn’t want to think, you just wanted to admit everything tearing you apart on the inside. You really didn’t care if he listened, you were about to explode with all of your feelings bottled up inside your petite frame so unfamiliar with hiding emotions. You thought about George while being scrutinized in loathing spite. “I had a perfectly good chance to be happy with someone that actually has the ability to love me, and I still cannot stop thinking about you. Why do you refuse to leave me alone? It’s every waking moment! I feel all of it relentlessly haunting me with no end in sight. And here I am, when I could remain in his arms, I’m still stuck fucking thinking of you, and I hate it! I hate it so much because I can’t hate you, no matter how hard I try…” your voice trailed off, the admission hindered by the tears streaming in solemn rivers down your cheeks. Draco had gone stiff and silent, his body just a statue while his eyes spaced out straight past you. He was listening, but upset with himself for it. You continued, still choking through the cries, “I’m repulsed and disgusted with who you choose to be, but against all of my own wishes, I am aimlessly and regretfully ashamed to admit I have fallen for you, Draco Malfoy, and it is the worst possible destiny because I don’t want anyone else, regardless of how good they truly are. I can only find myself wanting you.”

An eternity passed in silence as Draco absorbed your words, everything inside of him in a chaotic disarray he wasn’t prepared to survive. He blinked once, assuring you he was still alive, though you didn’t think he was breathing. You waited, allowing yourself a guilty moment of soothing warmth surrendered by the temporary hold of your hands. Draco yanked his hand from your own and narrowed his eyes down upon you. “You’re a fool,” Draco spat down upon you, pointing out the obvious in an awful aversion revolted in what appeared to be just pure contempt. He hated you for admitting it, but was not able to run so easily. 

You nodded, a sorrowed exhale shed in secretion from your brims, “I am.” Draco was unreadable and unreachable, not even breathing properly as your words seemed to suffocate him into strange confusion with one of his worst fears. You tried reaching out to him again, “I am everything that you despise, as you are all that I cannot tolerate. Say that you care for her and don’t wish to have anything to do with me, say that I am ugly and you could never imagine the humiliation of being with me. Say that you hate me,” you took a step towards him, maneuvering your head so that you could try to catch his gaze. He was anxiously attempting to remain adrift from you, but you were pleading in the softest tone for him to let you in, the only way you knew how. You tried to be cruel to yourself, just enough for him to understand what you felt. “But it doesn’t change the sorrow in my soul that begs to baptize in your presence every second I am near you--” he backed away again, stepping around you with a hand raised to silent you. 

“Will you stop? This is absolutely pathetic,” Draco ridiculed brutally, heaving his body as far from you as possible. He was in his head and desperately trying to barricade himself away from you, little did he know that his internal struggle was sounding as chaotically inside your own head. He was feeling again and he was trying to destroy all of it before it breached his sanity, carrying himself to the far wall. He closed his eyes and drew exhausted hands over his face. You followed, soft and silent steps strolled towards him. You were just a few feet away, but could render the moment Draco needed to catch himself. 

You reached a finger to graze upon his arm, whispering gently up at him, “look at me, Draco.” He took his time, peeling his hands from his face to simply glout back at you. You settled for the glare, “say something that comes from your heart, not your ego.” 

“Still believe I’ve got a heart? You’re more of a loon than I wagered,” Draco scoffed, prying your hand from his own and moving away from the wall. “Nothing has changed since last year.” 

Your arm shot out, trapping him to the wall. You were sick of waiting. You shot your hands up and cupped either side of his face, demanding him to look at you. His eyes were swirled with skepticism and doubt, but rivaled with so much more than hostility and hatred. “So much has changed. You feel it, Draco and it unnerves you, but it’s okay,” you whispered, the ease rectified in the gentle caress of your thumbs as they stroked softly over the sharp curves of his cheekbones. You were still at the mercy of speaking without logical thought, forcing a fraught smile to break across your brims. “It frightens me too,” you admitted. 

“How can that be okay?” Draco blurted out, as if genuinely curious of what you were thinking. As if you held the cure to all of this, and you wanted to more than anything in the world, but this was just as extraordinarily strange to you as well. You didn’t know what you were doing anymore than he did.

“I don’t know,” you assented, still cautious of Draco’s reactions as the words graveled aching inside of him. “And who would know? There might never be a way to explain this-- any of it-- it could all be a mystery. But I do know, contrary to all of my better judgement and all sense I claim to have, I trust this. I want to say it’s a mistake, that there was an error in judgement by the gods who so cursed this bond, but this does not feel wrong--”

Draco wrenched himself free again, discarding you to the side with a nudge of his shoulder. He dug his nails into his hair beside his temples, anger infuriating him again. He was fighting it again. “Shut up!” He demanded, fists curling in his own strands. 

You couldn’t leave him be. You followed beside him, “I can’t do that.” 

Draco lost it. His fists unraveled so fast and immediately bore into your shoulders. He swiftly slammed you into the stone wall, ignoring the surprised and slightly pained gasp that braced through your brims at the sudden movement. Draco pushed your shoulders tightly to the cold stone, daggers burning into you. “I was not asking,” he warned, one last shove to your shoulders before stepping away. 

“Did you even hear what I said, Draco?” you called after him, still frozen against the wall. You tried to repeat it, “I want to be with--”

“I don’t care! What do you not understand about that?” Draco lashed out loudly, white-knuckled fists practically trembling temptingly at his sides. If you were not his target, it would have been the wall beside your head. He was shouting at you, “I am going to say this once more, please let me know if you require me to spell it out for you-- I do not care for you! Do not dare take me helping you this evening as a sign that I have foolishly gone soft for you, y/n. I could never fancy someone as pitifully plain as a mere Hufflepuff. Have you seen yourself?”

“Draco--” you closed your eyes to prevent him from watching the torment his words caused, echoing torturously down to your core. You were crying again, your head crowned away from him. He didn’t listen to you, he was ranting through the rage and nothing was going to interrupt his degrading demeanor. It was the only way he knew how to feel good, tearing others down and belittling them to nothing, but it wasn’t working so quickly for him this time. 

“You’re not a sight even for sore eyes. I don’t care about you, I don’t care about the fucking pretenses of a pathetically pointless potion; you’re nothing but a parasite that can’t stay away,” Draco was struggling. He believed that if he could make the words harsher and as heinously upsetting as possible, the feeling would go away, but it was just stirring into regretful pity that watched the melancholic misery he caused you, helplessly.

“You are lying,” you muttered, losing faith in your own words. “I hear you, not by the words that hatefully harbor in your lips, but the words you refuse to say.” 

Draco knocked his knuckles roughly into the stone beside your head, “this is my truth, darling! There is not a damn thing about you which I hold dearly. You’ve absolutely lost it, haven’t you? What was it? One too many drinks?” You pressed your hands upon his chest and gave a shove that didn’t budge him apart from you. You recalled your last statement, realizing you had given yourself the answer to understanding Draco. You changed tactics, noticing you had been neglecting to seek the truth that his lips refused to grant. You did not react when he refused to budge, but you kept your hands still upon his chest, calming yourself down to the mellow melody of your heart to focus. He was still shouting, but it became background noise. “You’ve definitely gone delusional. Has Weasley just got tired of you? Is that what brought you crawling and crying back to me? You’re a fucking moron to think I would possibly consider--” you stopped him. You caught his face in your palms again, pressed up onto the tips of your toes. 

“Draco,” you cried out, batting your damp lashes up at him. Draco dropped his eyes and you tilted your head to catch his gaze. “Look at me. I’m here. Look, I’m right here,” you uttered in a tender sentiment that had Draco quiet and tranquil in your grasp. He was breathing again, no longer heaving by vicious nerves. His fists unraveled against the wall, falling to his sides. You tilted his head down and pressed your lips to his forehead. You knew how difficult it was for him to face you, so you spoke softly against his skin. “I know you think it is a confession I want out of you, but that was not my intention coming here tonight. I don’t need words right now, I just want you.” 

Draco was quiet again, but perhaps you were a loon, because you could have claimed to feel Draco leaning into your touch. You listened to the sound of his heart beating so loud in your ears, keeping him close. “What makes you think that I want you here for anything more than my own pleasure?” 

Your thumb traced over the pale angle of his jaw, bringing his head up so you could meet his eyes again. They were questionable, but coarsely clam while searching your own. “Can I tell you something?” Draco nodded his head in your hands and a smile tugged upon the corner of your lips. “Your thoughts happen to have been confutely contradicting what it is your mouth has said since I arrived,” you revealed. Draco’s eyes widened, obviously forgetting the mind tether was still established through your bond. He cursed under his breath and you shrugged an innocent shoulder, “I thought I would let you cycle the carousel until you realized we’re still tethered. I guess I have you to thank for that one.” You watched the timid doubt gear through Draco’s head, ready to let him go or surrender to him, depending on what it was he truthfully wanted.

“Fuck,” Draco’s hand grounded around your throat, his fingers suddenly piercing into your skin, so deep that he could feel the pulse in your neck torn through his palm. The breath was brutally stolen from your airways, the crowned curve of his palm crushing at the base of your trachea while crashing your head into the wall. The pain was just as fleeting as your need for air was temporary when your survival solely became the source of his lips ravishing your own, hungrily. The sound of your head ricocheting off the sharp stone was an awful sound. You could have had a concussion at this time, but you didn’t care an ounce.

The heat burned badly betwixt your thighs, craving him through every deranged desire to drop to your knees right there. You were on fire; digits driven in disturbed dives furiously twisted through his strands. You were both starved, possessed animals attacking one another’s lips like you’d been famished for an entire eternity. He was your demanded derivation; the sole origin for your being that needed him irrationally and immediately. Draco’s lips were absolutely intoxicating, you were slipping down the length of the wall just to angle your hips more obedient to the bulge he pressed into your stomach. He was hard with so much as a fiery kiss and it suffocated you into insanity, just as much as he physically had been. His mouth invading your own in insatiable infatuation, ravenous to your lips. He was siphoning the air smothered straight from your lungs, an assailant attack of hungry brims brutalizing your own, hastily. Your intellect was imploding; you couldn’t think properly, let alone retaliate reasonably. You were scarcely able to challenge or rival his ferocious fever, absolutely dissolving in his grasp as a faint faze flooded your perception.

You felt Draco everywhere, excitement etched in captive confinement to the wall he caged you controllably to. Draco’s damned, demented demons danced with your divine daydreams in the delirium of dangerous desire distorted dangerously through thin space. You gasped into Draco’s mouth, tilting yourself up onto the tips of your toes in order to catch a needed, bare breath that was denied by Draco’s tongue plunging into the wet warmness of your mouth. Your knees felt like they were giving out with the tempting taste of his tongue thrashing about your mouth, twitching at the taunt throbbing against your stomach through the thin velvet that tortured you.

He seized this sadistic scheme reigned over you. Draco’s intentions and restraint over his own desirous temper tarnished the second you allowed his advance. He wanted you— he needed you, and would take you, immediately. It was as if he’d been deathly deprived for decades, but now he was feasting on the frenzied, fervent fantasies of your mutual lust.

Against all the vile vigor he appeared to demonstrate, he crumbled when you smiled against his lips. Draco’s hand loosened enough to grant you an inhale from the tender temperament upon the flames in your lungs. The dire desperation subdued inside of him with the most excruciating, execrable enragement he utterly loathed. His pace paused properly, fist unraveling from around your throat, where the skin was still red, and slithering sinfully down the cherished curves of your silhouette.

You combatted the compulsive, crimson currant coerced to your cheeks at the realization his cruel, craze calmed with your grin. Your smile was sickly sensible in the most selfish scandal, derived from the feeling of familiarity and serene sublimity sinking you into him. You remembered the heat, the hunger, the lust, but it was all contrarily controversial to what this was now. At first, you found steamy satisfaction in the surreal seduction of such inflaming incitement, but now it was pure passion perplexed between you. You were in a placidly perfect purgatory while pinned between Draco and the wall, head heeled most agreeable to Draco’s teasing tongue’s adventures through the wanderlust exploration of your mouth. You empowered Draco’s tongue to dominate your own delightfully, feeling delicately divined with the sweet, savory sharing of his saliva. As much as you were uncomfortably hot and bothered by the irritation of impatient craving, you sensed a sound safety in his grasp.

Draco regretted the awful ache he’d accounted for from this amount of intensity, spared saliently short by the toying blonde he’d shared a bed with for the prior few weeks. It was this heat that had denied him such pleasure in fucking her, she wasn’t this fiercely fervid. His own mentality had failed him, relying on memory and an injured imagination to earn gratification; he was forced to gather for himself in the solitude of his quarters or the boys lavatory. He was enraged with the incapacity to control himself around you, even at a casual contempt during the day. He was tardy for class a few times after catching a fleeting figment of you in the corridor or in class and his mind would gut for the greedy seduction he’d simply fantasize about. When alone in the lavatory, he’d clutch the stall door and indulge in improper illusions of having you in the middle of Professor Moody’s classroom. He envisioned tossing you upon the arrogant arse’s desk and fucking you until you screamed bloody murder. It had only worked for him a series of initial instances, only permitting him to reach a cuming climax a couple of times. Oh, how he missed hearing you scream. He’d probably yearned for it more than the feeling of fucking you, just to hear your unraveling sounds of pleasure and knowing he pushed you to the brink of losing your mind to a celestial climax.

Draco’s hands kneaded your hips from over the felt fabric, undecided with need that involved probing your sides into the wall or wrenching you closer against his front. He stiffened your hips in an angled arch against his pants and you mused a muffled moan into his brims, making him wretchedly wild with want. He was done waiting, just as you were. His hands had parted from your throat and slipped down your silhouette while yours slinked down the length of his chest until they sunk over the stiff-standing swell in his trousers. You felt Draco run rigid when your hand moved to rub over him, but before you could react, you were off the ground.

Draco used the clasp upon your sides to snatch you off your feet, your hands struggled to wrap around him fast enough to catch yourself without risking your new balance constrained to his chest. The quick gesture granted a giggle from your lips, the slight stray from his kiss inviting his brims to ambush the exposed arc of your neck. Draco’s hands greedily grounded against your ass, keeping you as innately close as possible while venturing blindly in the direction of his quarters. You could only handle the onslaught of agonizing allure upon your neck for a few seconds, confident that Draco could now feel the damp discretion between your thighs with your new position against him. You exhaled heavily and immediately hauled him back to your lips, assuring you slammed into every side of the wall on the way to his room. You took advantage of the pivot in your pelvis to pestle the center of your tights across the firm favor filthily fastened to your avaricious axis, aggressively dipping your hips into dirty drags deep across Draco’s trousers. He was not so fond of your teasing, fighting off the urge to pin you down in the middle of the corridor, rip your tights and take you right there.

Neither of you were ashamed of the display that carried you recklessly through the hall in the direction of his quarters. With the volume of your ruckus, you were surprised Slytherins didn’t emerge from the dormitory to find the source of a disaster sweeping through their house. It was a short walk, but it was definitely taking too long with the constant crashing against walls, surely disrupting the portraits. It felt like an eternity until you reached his door, Draco, of course, slamming you savage-like into the wooden frame. The hinges screeched at the force and you braced yourself for the fall straight through, but it didn’t come.

The tears were long gone, it was all an insatiable hunger now.

Both you and Draco blindly fought to find the knob, hands resistant to leaving one another’s body. Your hands curled around the base of his collared shirt, tugging him unfeasibly crammed closer to your chest so much so the knot in his sage silk foulard condensed around his neck, eliciting a gratifying groan from his throat. The sound was purely captivating; Draco’s teeth embedding into the plush poison of your bottom lip and you whimpered in elated euphoria, Draco’s tongue tracing over the copper carnage combusted from the cut of your brim. Draco drew you back from the door long enough to fling it open and take you inside, a swift boot of his leg kicking it shut once you were inside.

You dropped yourself to your feet once the door rocked the metallic joints, lips not daring to depart from his own. It was a race to see which of you could undress the other the fastest and you cursed Elle for practically gifting Draco the victory since you were still shoving the jacket from his shoulders when his fists yanked the hem of your dress in a fast, fine motion instantly over your head.

You were just as, if not, irately more impatient with Draco wearing far too many clothes. Draco sniggered in allured amusement, eyes sculpting the sanguine shape of your stripped skin just arrayed in a bare beige brassier, complemented by an according atrium alabaster panty. Draco would never admit it, but it was as if he was seeing you in your most vulnerable nature for the first time all over again. He was revered, a dumbstruck daze devoted to the dainty decadence of your flagrantly fascinating frame. He was staring overtly obvious for too long, unbothered and brashly audacious observing both your captivating curves and your slight struggle to disrobe him fast enough.

“Did you need help, love?” Draco taunted in ludic leisure. You rolled your eyes, hands descending down his jade jumper until they found his belt. He leaned in to catch your lips and you entranced him with a backwards bend of your spine, karma for the snide karma that deprived him of the tender taste of your lips. His fists seized steadily upon your hips and roughly harrowed into your bare skin, your digits bracing onto the buckle as his hand tucked around the side of your jaw to drag you back to his lips. Each kiss was abundantly abrasive and aggressively hungry. Your fingers found the flex of his buckle and you heaved it free, loosening his hold on your jaw long enough to sink to your knees in a corrupt chorus with his trousers.

You dropped so fast to your knees for Draco, as if he was the divine deity deserving of your wicked worship. You served him like he was your ghastly greedy God, but watching you trace that tasty tongue of yours up his stiff cock had him heaving like you were his consummating celestial cataclysm of candescent deity. Draco tossed his head back onto the door to brace himself to your raptured rhapsody, tongue circled over the head of his cock before you plunged him down your throat and bobbed your head over his length repeatedly. Draco rid himself of his jumper and his harsh hands hindered in your hair, twisting your strands around his fist in a tight tilt so he could watch your gratifying gestures. You peered up at him while swirling your tongue over his cock, the groans betraying his tries to hold them back. You let the precum drop from your tongue before taking him back deep down your throat at Draco’s guidance, both of your hands accompanying the drive up and down his dick. It was a scrumptious salty savor leaking down your throat, all of which you eagerly swallowed. Draco’s clenched calloused fists jerked rougher in your hair, the loud grit of his teeth thundering through his throat while he pulsed his pelvis forward to deepen his cock down your throat. He was beautifully bewitched by your seductive sorcery, and you resented the need to breathe. You wanted him down your throat because it brought him pleasure and the sounds produced a slippery slope between your thighs. Draco held you firm by the knots in your hair while his cock was down your throat and he was ready to cum right then and there, solvating to the mercy of your motions.

“What a good girl,” Draco groveled through a growled groan, finally following your head back off his cock and tugging your head into a tilt upwards so that he could absorb the sight of you. You were his goddess, a serene statuette sculpture poised so perfectly with his liquid still dripping from the part of your brims, barely dressed, messy hair, swollen lips, and the intensely impatient desire pleading up at him for approval. Your lust empowered him, and he wasn’t nearly done with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S P I C Y ! What did you think?? I need some serious criticisms, people! I am a little on the edge about this chapter, I definitely am not happy with my writing when it comes to the breakup with George and the confessions with Draco, I think I kind of rushed on the emotions and reactions so it's not as deep as it should be, but please let me know what your thoughts are! As always, I love you and can't wait to see you soon!


	16. Addictive Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your final Birthday wish was answered, drawing the curtain on the evening in serene and scandalous satisfaction. However, you've still got loose strings that require your attention almost as much as he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for a long wait, I apologize again! If you are still with me, SMUT WARNING for the majority of this chapter. IF YOU ARE +18, I really hope you enjoy this chapter! If you are not, I think it's a little inappropriate for you but I can't really stop you, so I hope you enjoy too, I guess. Anyways, as always, please leave your thoughts, opinions, comments, everything! And if you did enjoy this chapter or some of the previous ones, let me know what you liked, it helps narrow future writings! 
> 
> Much love, happy reading!

Draco Malfoy needed you.

His fingers currently curled narrowly around the rim of your jaw as you sat beneath him on your knees, gawking up at him with sparkling swirls bewitched in shimmering specs sunken in your eyes. You were still panting, trying to swallow the remainder of his early release stuck in your throat and glowing off your lips in the dim light of his quarters. His thumb scoured over your bottom lip and wiped the excess cum, only resulting in you catching his hand before he pulled it away and closing your lips around his thumb. You cleaned his thumb with your tongue without delay, Draco’s amusement groveled deep within his chest. Draco’s cock throbbed at the seductive sight, still succumbed to the sultry stroke of your delicate digits across his shaft. He trailed his thumb in a tempting taunt down your bottom brim before tightening his grip on your jaw and dragging you up to his lips. Your knees wanted to cave under the extreme exertion of his lips, but you leaped eagerly to your feet at his command and conceded with an incontestable thirst to the famined force from his kiss. 

It was like both of you had forgotten the untouched, tidy trim of his bed. One second, Draco had just gotten you off your knees and the next second, your back was crammed in a tight weld to the wooden door. Pain was nonexistent; you were a prisoner to the pure poison of your providence to him, a profane possession that compelled carnal corruption you could only comprehend as a mortal must-have of Draco. Every cell in your body was Draco's, as his was yours. The language of a foreign fornication was suddenly all you knew. Draco’s lips parted from your own and it was as if he’d plunged a spear through your gut, immediately riddled with disappointment and anguish at the loss, before your senses ignited all over again. The hand that had drawn you to him from the ground had fallen once more to the base of your neck, where he currently craned your cranium to the side to provide himself with an appetizing advantage to your throat. 

You were weak, really only supported by the door behind you with one hand hedged into his bare shoulder and the other suppressed in his strands. Draco sanctified the sweet skin of your neck with his lips, a boiling blessing of covetous kisses coated from your jaw to your collar while his free hand followed over the crescent curves of your thin brazier. He paused to decorate the dulcet duvet of your collar bone, sucking so sharply at the skin that your knees quivered, and if not for the instinctive drive of your thighs together, you were quite sure you would have already came. 

You moaned, unconscious of the degree and struggling to resist unravelment so soon with your skull crashing harder into the door behind you. Draco traced the design of your brazier around your back, unclasping the undergarment without flaw. Your arms abided by his guidance to disrobe, Draco’s lips returning to assail a brief attack onto your own, coaxing you tighter against the timber that trapped you. It was only a ravenous peck, but it brought back the beautiful insanity of his tortuous taste. Draco pulled away again to a slanted succor to your breasts, your nails nettled nastily into his skin with his lips now on your breasts. 

“Draco,” you breathed his name in a gasp, required to bitterly bite down on your bottom lip to refrain from crying out in ravished rapture. Draco’s teeth sank into the sensitive soreness of your breast, tilting his head back in a further tormenting tease to tug just right with his tongue still twirled across the hard swell of your nipple. You were twitching, almost swearing to the wetness that seeped from your panties as it exuded an escape between clenched thighs. Draco was in his own world which solely revolved around being the saint of your satisfaction; each sound hallowing glory to his ego, grace to his delirium, and a most gaiety growth to his cock. Both of his palms manipulated a mastery massage deep into the soft squish of your breasts, sucking sharply once more, before his fingers tempted a further flood down your stomach. You weren’t breathing at all when Draco’s digits danced into the crest of your panties. 

You wanted him so bad, but his heat drowned into a deluge from your breasts to your stomach, truly taking Draco down onto his knees for you. You weren’t in the right mind to consider the token of his actions as the courteously approving praise it was. Draco planted pale pecks down your stomach, fingers diving into the practically soaked sea between your legs. Your moans sounded off the walls, lulled louder through his slightly secluded quarters. You didn’t want to think of what you would have been reduced to if not for Draco and his precious daddy pulling strings to get him here. As much as you hated it, you thanked Mr. Malfoy for a mental moment over the secret pleasure he’d granted his son and yourself, even though you knew there was absolutely no chance Mr. Malfoy would ever know you as anything beyond a strange student he had run into (and creeped out) one time in Diagon Alley. Let alone the soulmate of his only heir.

Draco’s lips pressed to your hip, just over the thread of your panties, glancing up at you just as one of his fingers curled around the lace and pulled it free from your body, while another simultaneously dove inside you without warning. You slammed your head backwards, rattling the door once more. You could only imagine the muffled sounds evading the lumber fixture, since it happened to be bearing the full extent of your problematic balance. Draco smirked against your skin, amusing himself to the artistically angelic arch of your spine and the obscene curses pleading under your breath. His finger drummed deeper inside of you, lips slowly tempting closer to your folds. Draco’s hand enclosed around your ankle just as he rid you of your panties, drawing your leg up towards you so that your knee folded to your stomach and allowed him greater access to your slick center. You seized your knee, immediately grounding it to your upper half, apparently under the impression that you could exceed expectations when it came to balancing on one foot while trembling under Draco’s fatally fantastic feasting. He pressed a kiss into the fairly soaked folds, still couriering the curl of his finger inside of you and drawing the delicate dampness of his tongue from the base of his finger up to the tip of your clit.

For all you knew, he could have wielded a dagger across your throat, and you would have kindly thanked him with the amount of pleasure vigorously coursing through your veins at this moment. Draco decided to answer the coercive embrace of your core and slipped another finger inside you, only causing you to cry out in another moan while scratching desperately deeper into the skin of your knee. He spouted his two fingers deeper and in hastened pulses up inside of you, tongue still submerged in the wet arcs. His thumb softly circled over your clit, just grazing the bed of his digit against your sensitive spot. His mouth and fingers performed like your pleasure was their profession, simultaneously gifting you a serene surreality in the form of a heavenly euphoria.

Your hips were shaking in a savory sway to his actions, barely able to contain the coming orgasm clawing at your surface. Draco’s tongue raced rapid reign over your soaking sensitivity, thumb swirling over your swollen clit, fingers curled and wreathed immeasurably sunken in tender aches tempting your cervix. The angle of you pinned up against the door with his fingers darting deeper up into you from his knees provided him with the perfect angle to access your core with his long indexes. You were quivering in tottering tremors, nearly screaming your lungs out in noisy moans exploding from your ribcage. Draco was in a holy haven smirking beneath you, his own excitement seeping out of his stiff cock just being able to eradicate such ecstatic spams out of you. He knew your body was losing it’s war waging over control, his tongue swimming in your jittering juices as they spilled down his hand. He was going to get you there whether you were ready or not. Draco used his shoulder to pin your hips still to the door, also aiding in the support of your knees crumpling under your cumming. He trapped you with his shoulder, one hand pumping his fingers deep up inside of you while the other spread your delectable folds wide for his tongue to tease. 

Your nails tore into your ankle as you lost your grip and couldn’t help but give in. “Draco!” you screamed his name from the height of clouds that bathed your senses in an intoxicated paradise, submitting to the storm of your oppressed orgasm. Your toes were clenched and your thighs were shuddering in conquered quavering, Draco resenting his own climax which pounded to join you. If only you knew how easily you could overthrow his own obsessive orgasm, nearly losing his suppression with the sole sounds of your satisfaction. Not to mention the sight as he watched you unravel, not quite directly into his mouth like he had desired, but enough to have his cock throbbing twice as hard. Your spine folded on you, the weight of your release welcoming you down to his head. You breathed in Draco’s strands, unable to swallow the lump in your throat that riddled you with incoherent breaths, heart like a hurricane hollowed in your chest. He gave you a second, still propping you up, surprisingly steady since every cell in your body seemed to be compelled into convulsions you were at a loss trying to command into compliance. You could hardly breathe right, let alone be responsible for your limbs. 

Draco pressed his lips to your inner thigh, and then he trapped your sentient, shaky skin between his teeth and sucked, fashioning a modest, yet mischievous mark into the soft curve of your skin. He stretched his hand up your hips and over your stomach, slowly rising to his own feet with balancing you back into the length of the door. 

“Quite messy for such a delicate doll,” Draco whispered into your skin on his way to his feet. The presence of his warmth returning to the scale of your senses cured the nimble but remarkable numbness. You were still panting, head reclined into the archwork of the door frame with tangled curls parted in your eyes. Your sweet sap still dripped from Draco’s digits, his opposite hand sweeping the stray strands from your eyes so you could witness his daring display. He held your eyes, inciting the excitement all over again by simply dragging his tongue over his fingers which had just plunged deep inside you. He cleaned them without hesitation, merely measured by pride over his own accomplishment. 

“Shut up,” you groaned, locking your hand around the back of his neck and finally hauling him back to your lips. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you could taste yourself on his tongue and your arousal only amplified. It was hard to focus on anything now that your breath was siphoned from your lungs by his kiss, and his pulsating cock hedged against your stomach.

Draco pulled away, pressing a finger to your lips before you could argue. “Do you want this?” Draco asked, pausing to ponder your status of sobriety after a couple of unfavorable influences. He was still obliging to his previous statements, not wanting any part of you that was not decided in clarity. You didn’t need a second to think, having more than one opportunity to change the outcome of this evening, from leaving George to Snape in the corridor, and even an awful screaming-match with Draco. 

“I do,” you admitted through a thin exhale. It felt like you were leisurely dying without him inside of you, and it was ten times more excruciating for Draco. Draco’s hunger was no longer resistible. He spun you around so fast you were actually dizzy when your front slammed hard against the wood surface. You swore by the screaming shards of wood, gasping at the collision with a glance over your shoulder that was interrupted by Draco’s fist in your hair. He tugged harshly on your strands, arching your spine up into him and positioning himself perfectly between your legs. He kissed you, the grip muddled in your hair had your entire back bent backwards into him so he could watch the slick, hot glow of your features twist and illuminate with desired delight while he slowly slid deep inside you. He started slow, but the highlights of excitement radiating on your features made him lose it. He plunged the full length of his cock as deep inside of you as this new angle would allow, his free arm cupped just under your ass to raise your leg and grant him even more access to your core.

Your fingers dug into the wood, splinters splitting under your nails while your hips rocked with his own. The craving craze fed off of how deep inside you he was, this new angle paying off in depth but definitely not in intimacy as your entire front was locked to the limber and Draco’s pelvis pounded you harder into the stiff wood. You cried out when his free fingers reached around to dip down to your front and massaged your clit. You were already approaching another orgasm, feeling it’s brink blossoming in your gut as Draco sank his teeth into your shoulder. You were shaking again, head rolling around Draco’s shoulder as he tugged tougher on your hair, teeth sinking into your skin to muffle his groans. You were chanting his name in moaning whimpers, hand locked around Draco’s wrist to brace yourself on his hold while rocking your hips back into him. 

“Fuck, Draco! You’re gonna make me—“ you breathed, jaw clenched and eyes tightly sealed as Draco cut you off with a greedy growl. You were desperately slashing at slipping threats to contain yourself. You were unraveling again, faster than you had when he’d delighted himself to the ravenous feast between your legs. Your orgasm was cresting to control your insides, compelling you up onto the tips of your toes to welcome Draco’s depth diving into the tight fever spasming around his cock. 

“Not yet, little puff,” Draco warned, his heaving breaths stalking up your neck and to your ear. He traced his tongue over the angle of your cartilage before nipping and sucking sharply at your earlobe. His hand moved from your clit to your neck, framing you perfectly against his front. You bit down on your lip, still trying to muffle your groans and curses, nails embedding themselves into Draco’s hand locked around your throat. He was so deep, his cock thrashing tempts towards your cervix while you cried out into his ear. Draco’s fists untangled from your hair, still knotted while ripping a few strands from your skull and lingering around his fingers. He grabbed your ass, piercing the soft pillow with his desperate digits and proceeding to swat his knuckles against your ass and evoke your moans into the arc of his cheek. Draco slapped his palm again on the same cheek, eliciting the same response as you sighed submissively and warranted your tongue to flick just over his skin. He was glistening in the dim light, both of you engulfed by the fiery flames flaring off one another, as if you’d been making love in the actual sun. Draco was familiar with the frigid forbidding of bitter-cold blood, only ever experiencing insatiably ravenous, honest heat when hungry for you. He was not accustomed to wanting, but dread every damned demanding desire to have you. 

Draco could feel the hammer of your heartbeat like a hypnotic hum, due to the aberrant ardor ambushing an ache through your absolute anatomy that answered to only him. You didn’t know anything; merely helpless to the entirety of your logic toppling out of your brain and restoring with an impulsive impatience that itched at the blatant, burning brink of your own burst. Draco snatched his fingers from your clit in a way that made your soul shatter into a void weakness without his assisting tease beckoning you closer to that perfect climax he’d driven you so close to. You wanted to curse by his horrid humor, but your insides were screaming too loud to even consider a coherent thought. You shrunk to his chest, the amusement mocked upon his proud brims, your senses twinging as you whined a problematic plea “Draco, please!” You were begging now and it encouraged him beyond the wildest wandering angle of arousal. Draco’s digits enclosed narrowly around your throat once more, tilting your head into his chest so he could steal the breath from your lips again.

“Good girl,” Draco snickered through a pant pressed to your raw lips. You purred, pressing your hips harder into his own as an anguished cry for more. Draco silenced you by grasping viciously at the curve of your jaw. “Not yet,” he warned, releasing your jaw only to twist his knuckles into your strands again and stiffen you straight against the wood again. This angle sentenced a surprised squeak to surpass your bitten lip, cheek flattened while still sinking onto his throbbing cock rammed rougher through your insides.

“Hell, Malfoy—“ you cried, arching harder as Draco squeezed his hand harder around your ass, red welts forming on your bottom but sparkling just under your skin. It was new, but impressively intoxicating. Everything with him was. You were ready to pull every desperate beg in the book, feeling the orgasm glowing through your veins and clawing to get out. And then he was. Draco pulled himself from you, releasing your ass cheek and spinning you back to his chest. You landed with your palms on his face, an ‘oomph’ sound coaxed from your moans while Draco shoved you back against the convened support of the door. He bent his knees and hooked the back of your thighs in just a swift second, scooping you instantly in a secured hold to his chest. You clung gravely to him, interlocking your ankles around the backside of his abdomen and dipping your hips down over the head of his cock as it poked your rear, earning a mangled groan into your mouth. He was not close to being as loud as you were, so every muffled noise that you siphoned victoriously from his constrained lust was exhilarating. You kissed him, hands cupped around his cheeks and pressed passionately into the intimate embrace. Draco carried you to the bed, but you could not last another miserable bloody millisecond.

“Draco,” you wailed in a withering whimper, unable to utter anything but his name with the pain that pulsed peculiarity in your veins with a simple pause. You actually suffered from the starved insanity of a temporary delay that deprived you from inside you, and Draco was the only cure. Without words, he understood and obliged, taking the first opportunity his gaze found; his crowded desk. Draco clasped his arm tightly around your back to balance you upon his side so he could rail his arm across the surface, causing everything on top to go flying. Books, parsels, papers, quills, absolutely everything was sent chaotically clattering to the floor in a cluttered crash. 

It was a sight you thankfully were not granted a second to behold, Draco immediately pinning you tightly to the top of the desk and reassuming the precise posture between your legs. You gathered his face in your hands, legs adjoining around the back of his sides to draw affixed to your center. You were impatient and Draco indulged himself to your humorous hunger, not knowing how it truly tore you apart on the inside. Draco rooted himself to the edge of the desk, returning his cock to penetrating your cunt, which embraced him most favorably. Your spine bowed in a blissful bend, arching into a purely angelic allure of art Draco arrantly and shamelessly treated himself to. You silenced yourself by kissing him, overcome all over again by the force of his cock unfathomably drummed deeper into your core, almost bruising your insides with the rough rhythm of his pelvis pounding against your own. You cried out again into his mouth, piercing your nails into the backs of your thighs to draw your legs up and provide Draco with even more room to utterly ravish you beyond your wildest fantasy. Draco pressed his abdomen down onto your knees, one hand trapped around the backside of the desk as an anchor deep inside you, while the other grasped greedily to the side of your cheek.

Your brain could not untangle the words moaning from your lips, unsure if it was curses or Draco’s name exclaiming in worshiped chants, but you howled aloud for all of it-- all of him. You were already close, absolutely losing your entire mind with each pulse of Draco’s pelvis which rocked the desk on unsturdy legs. You were drowning in the pleasure, drunk off of the daze of passion and sinful submission. You were on fire again, your mind splintering and shattering into shockwaves of a searing storm seizing your climax. “Draco,” you gasped his name, hand thrashing out to your side in a sad struggle to stabilize yourself with your nails cutting into the wooden desk. You opened your eyes, letting the hypnotic harmony of Draco’s own haint hues sweetly swallow yours as you surrendered into sluice. Draco picked up his pace right before you gave yourself to him, causing your head to crane in another sharp incline up into Draco, legs shot out around his sides and toes curling involuntarily with the overcoming organsm. 

To your surprise, Draco came first. He’d managed to muffle most of his grunts and groans with your lips or skin, internalizing the inferno dissolving everything around you. It was both his name rolling off your tongue in that velvet voice of sheer arousing addiction and blinking his eyes open to find your eyes gazing back at his with a consumingly torturous taut trust. You barely subquented a second following Draco, nails cemented into the firm flex of his shoulder blades while being dizzily deprived of every sensible function. You were in the clouds, witness to waves of white noise while banal fireworks flagrantly inflamed your insides. You were falling back to Earth, seeming to allow the world to return to it’s accustomed axis revolution while slowly bringing your forehead to Draco’s own. You both needed to breathe; nearing fainting into one another because you’d both been so ignorant of your needs on anything other than one another’s pleasure. 

You obviously needed a moment even after Draco had begun shifting, using the desk as a support to scoop you into his arms again, peeling the exhausted glow that was your frame from the wooden surface with little help from your still weak and wobbly figure. The only form of help you could offer was wrapping your arm loosely around his neck and resting your head upon his bare bicep. You didn’t care where you were going, body ready to shut down after being emitted to such an exultant euphoria. 

You were out in seconds as soon as your nerves stopped trembling treacherously through every bone in your body. Your mind was melting with your body, dissolving between Draco's heaving, hot frame and the sudden inclusion of silky sheets. You lost yourself in effervescent clouds that calmed every chaotic spasm strained through scorching sparks soothed in your skin. You were always absolutely unable to accurately account for the efficacious ecstasy enriched in electric exhilaration derived from Draco's disassembling drive. 

You may not have had much to compare his hunger to, but Draco possessed a paradox of both poison and perfection in the sense of his cruel, curcelean capabilities that had you unwarrantedly unwound like never before. You had a direct discretion drawn through every eclectic fiber that had exploded inside of you and it was overcoming your sensual sanity. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut under a "resting" pretense was your mistake, immediately losing yourself to a serene slumber. You tried blaming the tumultuous thumping tune of Draco's heart for lulling you off to sleep, but it was not quite convincing considering his heartbeat had hastened into a hectic, haywired hum racing in a ragefully rampant rockus in his ribcage. 

Draco hadn't even noticed until your saintful sounds subdued into a soft, but silly, snoring song. He silently sighed a satisfactory snicker into your solvent strands, trying to contain his cocky conceit contentment with himself. He was so good he got you asleep instantly, he fully believed he deserved a pat on the back for creating such vigorous pleasure in you. 

"You're welcome--" Draco whispered in a muted melody, beginning to lower you easily into the linen sheets, which immediately cradled you into a cool, cozy comfort. You were half-asleep, but still detected his pompous murmur through the dulcet drowses drowning you into a sheer, selfless sleep. For a moment, you neglected the numb nerves nestled in each searing sense, still salvaging the surge of surreality that blessed upon you with such a perfect peak. You couldn't gather the extent of your bodily control to actually look up at him, but you did manage just enough to prod a poke from your nails into the skin of his shoulder.

"Shove off," you muttered through a worn yawn, burrowing down into the soft sheets while Draco moved to settle them securely around your naked silhouette. You still had a grip around his shoulder, refusing to let go with a muffled, objective groan, which Draco marveled humorously at and agreed to your tug, settling himself down under the linen beside you. You were beginning to fully deliver yourself to a summoning slumber, unintentionally throwing yourself around Draco as he laid down. He went stiff under your sudden movements, but didn’t fuss, allowing your head to nestle upon his chest and leg kick out to sprawl over his own. 

He nearly laughed at the gesture, still cognizant of the tranquil tempo thumping beneath your breast as you slowly soothed with his solaced presence. Draco entitled himself to a moment with you, already arguing with his own depleting drain while dropping a caressing stroke over your shoulder. He traced his fingertips over the flames in your skin, rolling his head to rest down upon your own. “Happy Birthday, little puff,” Draco muttered into your hair with a deep inhale of your strands.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, right before being submerged sincerely into a simple, snug slumber atop Draco’s chest. The compliance to your evirated exhaustion was not even worth fighting as it squandered every heightened cell in your body, immediately following your obliging orgasm. He was nearly there as well, after weeks of vainly vacant sex that lacked true consuming climax, you’d managed to have him there twice that evening. It was all meaningless to venture comparison to you, just fragments of futile attention resentfully covetous of you and that weasel. 

He figured it was just his imagination again, idling a release out of him just at the idea of you here, but you remained. Words of your last argument plagued the silence around Draco while he struggled to stay awake, twisting his arm in recollection of the awful things he’d expressed while scolding you. Draco realized not deserving you was an understatement here. Your dreams embarked on heavenly clouds once again, sending you skipping into a sleepy, stupor serenity, all while Draco drowned in regretful reminiscing he would never admit to. 

He decided to ignore it, surrendering to the divinely sepharic song of your soft breathing, which only dropped further weights on his eyelids, until he too had drifted off to sleep. 

Draco awoke before you, just about ready to regret letting you sleep upon his chest as your fragile figurine had moved from his side to fully entangled over his torso. You had taken it upon yourself to spread over the length of him, like he was the remainder of the bed or your own personal furnace. He didn’t stir too heavily to disrupt you, not really given any space to do so with your reckless recline across him. He chuckled silently to himself, slowly raising a cautious hand to brush the messy strands from your face to appreciate your delicate features in the dim dawn light that decorated the far wall in a dull luminesce. He couldn’t wager on a specific time just based on the sunrise, but guessed it was still far too early to dare wake you. Draco was aware you would probably be faced with a bit of sickness following last night, so a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt. He knew he could stay sound for as long as you needed, not dreaming of disturbing your sleep, in wake of what occurred the last time you’d awoken in his bed after a night of festivities. 

His plan was spoiled to ruin at the sound of a sudden, alarming and thunderous thump upon his door. Not only did it extinguish any enduring drowsiness loitering in Draco, it caused you to actually jump out of your own slumber as well. Draco caught you before you could tumble off the side of the bed after being startled into an upward spring. 

You were trying to form questions and fully wake up when the loud banging on the door rattled the hinges once more. Draco tucked you back into the bed, dropping your hand as he quickly found a pair of trousers to tug up his legs and scrounge a shirt from the floor on his way to the door. You were rubbing your eyes while tightening his sheet around your chest, panic plunging through your chest and ramming through your ribcage almost as loud as the person knocking. You couldn’t decipher if it was knocking or they were intentionally trying to bring the door down. 

Draco was at the door and your brain finally functioned your body into action. You slid from the bed, taking the sheet with you until you reached his wardrobe, where you quickly swiped a dark jumper and threw it over your head. Draco opened the door, clearing his throat just as you tucked yourself tightly to the wall, no longer in view of the doorway.

The atmosphere of the entire room shifted and you watched Draco’s knuckles clench into a pale fist around the base of the door. You had originally landed on some sour scenarios while rattling off ideas to whoever was behind the door, inevitably deeming your luck would warrant a visit by Professor Snape or even Dumbledore himself-- but what you hadn’t imagined was probably the absolute worst-case option Draco confirmed with a vexed sneer. 

“You must have a bloody death-wish, Diggory,” Draco spat bitterly, nearly successful in slamming the door in his face if not for Cedric already shoving his way in. Draco just missed him, failing to get a grip on the sleeve of his sweater as he waltzed in, invading the room with a desperate search. 

Cedric’s eyes squandered immediately around the room until they landed upon where you stood, lingering near the opposite wall. His pitiful puppy-dog pupils swirled with sympathetic sorrow, both of you deflecting the fact you were not wearing pants. You merely met Cedric's gaze and it launched into a loop of the prior night's events. You paused, Cedric's words whirling around you so violently that it appeared to suffocate the air around you. Cedric's lips parted, but you didn't hear a word that left his lips, eyes falling to the floor while pain plagued your shamefully sad silhouette. 

His current excuses were drowned out by the memory of his slurred slander from insults he'd shouted just that night whilst fashioning that neat little bruise bore into the skin around your wrist. You had noticed briefly last night, but with the hours that had passed, it had certainly signified into saturated shades of scarlet and sangria shapes. You were sure that you could outline the angles of his fingers so clearly in the mark on your wrist that the idea was nearly funny, in a sick sarcastic way. Your emotions were working against you, muddled messily in the wake of Cedric's arrival while balancing the echo of events that you'd accidentally admitted to the tears like some trick of your flailing feelings. 

It was the sound of Draco's voice that unsurprisingly welcomed warmth back into the hollow exterior you were close to abandoning with Cedric so annoyingly announced before you. Draco had seized your opposite hand, also ignoring Cedric while tucking you behind his own build, still extending the door open for Cedric. Draco tapped his fingers on the wood, loudly interrupting Cedric's rehearsed remorse. "Would you like to leave of your own free will, or do you need some encouragement?" You covered your hand over Draco's, ready to disagree with his harsh tone when Cedric's glare tore from Draco to your slight movement. 

"Y/n--" Cedric's voice finally reached your ears and you flinched, training your eyes to the floorboards rather than meet the expectant gaze. You couldn't hear his voice without the words replaying like a record nicked on a repeating needle, let alone meet his eyes. Which was your favorite? When he’d shouted remarks about you being a tramp to everyone that had attended, or when he commented about your legs being open? Or even comparing George and Draco? Or having the nerve to ask Draco how you “were”? You couldn’t decide which of your best-friend’s sincerities made you more nauseous.

Draco cut in again, barely allowing the syllables of your name to form on Cedric's lips before taking a step forward, obscuring Cedric's line of sight to you. Only, you didn't let go when Draco tried to declare a warning through his advancing, trailing a few steps behind him as he scowled the slightly taller figure.

"Don't speak to her," Draco spat, glaring the battered boy up and down. Even though he was a few years older, Draco had made it a point just last night for Cedric not to underestimate his age. "In case it was not clear, I was not asking. It was more of a polite offer that is quickly being retracted--" it was your turn to stop this. Just standing near them, you could feel the tension boiling without examining the hard expressions exchanged in tempered threats. You tugged on Draco's hand, his words dying out in an involuntary obedience to your objection. You were well aware Draco had much more to say, and even more contempt he'd like to unleash upon Cedric.

You were done with fighting. You forced an inhale into your chest, spine straightening to face Cedric and at long last, beholding your sight upon the discolored damage done to his facial features. In addition to the still healing burn on the side of his face that you couldn’t hold Draco accountable for, he’d dressed up the burn mark with new additions of bruises and cuts, each looking as though it had been properly attended to. You wondered if he’d made the trip to see Madame Pomfrey, and if he had, what had he exactly blamed for the new adornment of abrasions. You realized you were staring far too long, inspecting the wounds worn on his skin, almost like he’d been victorious in a brawl with a younger classman. You did regret that Draco seemed to tamely tarnish the handsome hallmarks of Hufflepuff’s Hero, identifying a swollen gash just under his eye, another split right over his eyebrow, a similarly scraped lip and a final graze over the rim of his sharp jawline. You remained close to Draco’s shoulder, not only to shelter yourself, but also to conceal your bare legs. In a rare circumstance, you were actually thankful for your shorter stance to that of Draco, the hem of his jumper extending as if it were a dress that stopped at your thighs. You cleared the hesitation from your throat, "what are you doing here, Cedric?"

Cedric was a stranger to the discreet discomfort described in the distance you sought to keep from him, unfamiliar with dithering detachment from his closest companion. Even wretched under the watchful hostility of Draco's daggers, Cedric's distraught guilt overpowered his sensibility and he took a step closer to you. "I need to speak with you. Please, y/n. I--" Cedric's plea was stopped by Draco, who read Cedric's approach as a blatantly bold bid and matched a rivaled step right back, paralleling the challenge he believed Cedric was provoking.

"There," Draco cut him off, his voice chiming in sardonic sarcasm while once more pulling you behind him. Draco dared a quirked brow, free fist tightening at his side."You've spoken. Now,, piss off, Diggory," Draco demanded, nodding his head toward the door. You wouldn't have been surprised if Draco began demonstrating how to properly use the door with Cedric's ignorant opposition. 

Cedric stayed tall, narrowing his eyes to ridicule Draco with an equal taunt. "I don't remember asking for your commentary or permission--" 

Your eyes widened at Cedric's commentary,, hands locking around Draco's hand as his scoff echoed through the room. "That's quite rash for a boy covered in bruises," Draco gritted his teeth and snickered a satire sound from his throat. You grasped tighter upon his hand as it covered your wrist, really failing at trying to train Draco's steps backwards. You managed a couple steps before Draco continued to heckle harshly. "If you fancy, I don't see a problem in adding a few more to that sad excuse of a face--"

"Draco!" You cut him off by calling out his name, and by some shocking fortune, you were just fast enough to stop him from lunging as soon as Cedric chuckled at the remark. Draco was losing his temper and you were out of ideas to defuse the aggressive strain. You barricaded your back to Draco's front, hands extending behind you to bear into the rim of the desk, as if your attempt to restrain him in place would actually hold. You bumped him backwards with your bum, immediately regretting the gesture as your attempt to keep him as far from Cedric as possible resulted in you now assuming a seated position against his front. You were unable to deny the bright blush baking your cheeks, even in the wake of throwing yourself foolishly between two of them taunting and toying at one another, you still scorned the second of accidental allure. Draco hitched in hesitation, momentarily too distracted by the warmth of your ass pressed to his trousers to realize his threat had been traded for treasonous tranquility. You forced yourself to ignore the heat radiating into your backside, able to recognize his exhale that fluttered through your strands from behind you. His fists unwound and he extended the blood through his digits to better catch a moment of clarity at your guidance. 

With Draco somewhat composed in a poor constraint, you shot a cynical glare towards Cedric. "If this is your intent for 'talking', then I will agree with Draco and recommend taking your leave eminently--" Cedric shook his head, a look of regret rounding in his expression with a hand stressfully raked through his hair. 

"No. I'm sorry, y/n," Cedric offered an apology, one that stirred the compassion plaguing your insides. "I just really need to speak with you," Cedric begged again. You hated hearing him upset like this, as much as he could have deserved the resented animosity, you found that your will to resist pity at his gloomy tune was weak. You cursed at yourself mentally, stolen from reconciliation as Draco took your hand and spun you around to face him, arguing before you could even vocalize your agreement. 

"No," Draco stated, scavenging your eyes for a sign of doubt he could lay hold to. You squeezed his hand, but he didn't grant you a second to reason. "No," Draco repeated, causing your head to tilt and flutter your lashes up at him. “Don’t start,” Draco warned, glaring just past your shoulder to where Cedric groveled right back. “You’re just as foolish as he is if you’re honestly expecting me to assent to this.” Cedric’s snort from behind you had Draco’s fist curling tighter.

“I forget that I had asked you to be the center of my discussion with her—“ Cedric asserted wittily, the words not even disgracing his tongue. Draco kicked himself off of the desk and bumped into your stance between them. You were not about to let the events of last night replay for all of you right here, especially without help or your wand.

“Cedric—“ you cautioned, interrupted immediately by Draco’s attempt to push your side so that he could escape your side and confront Cedric. Draco’s temper was slipping and you could sense it, forcing yourself to ignore the grip on your wrist that bore pressure into your still sensitive wrist. 

“I beg your pardon?” Draco scoffed, darting daring daggers across the room to Cedric. You remained between them, stopping his advancement with a hand upon his chest as he continued to rant. “You have the foolish nerve to step foot in my quarters and think you can just talk to me—“

You gave him a soft shove backwards, sitting him back down on the top of the desk, like it would straighten him out. “Draco—“ you began again, silenced by Draco clutching both of your hands close to his shirt. He refused to let you utter a single contrary word.

“No,” Draco shut you down, bearing his gaze into your eyes at the infuriating need to repeat himself. “I mean it, l/n.” You blinked at him, perplexed by the precarious pigments of worry committed to his gaze. He was no longer toying with the idea or trading snide immaturities with Cedric, his gaze was not only assertively determined, but somber and evidently serious. 

You were in the midst of deciphering what it really was creating the drift between you when his voice sang through your mind. ‘You can’t trust him-- I don’t trust him’, Draco answered your internal queries. ‘Don’t fight me on this’, his tone trusted he’d already made up his mind and was ordering your obedience to his decision, but Draco was still asking you to see it from his perspective.

You stepped into his hold, releasing the reality of Cedric still remaining in the same room while welcoming Draco’s presence. ‘He is my friend. He won’t—’ you were on the verge of lying, not even realizing the words had instinctively formed in your mind without considering the truth Draco didn’t hesitate to divulge.

‘Hurt you?’ Draco scoffed, holding up your hands like you had forgotten. ‘Are you blind? Look at what he’s already done to you, y/n’, you tried to push both of your hands down, shifting on your feet while Draco berated your mind. He was upset again, but while in the solitude of your mind, his tone changed. ‘He has hurt you, and a lack of liquor is not going to stop him from doing it again’, Draco informed you. You gave him due credit for his concerns, he was making an endeavor to persuade you into vitalizing common sense, but this was not a stranger; it was Cedric Diggory. 

You thought of him and you neglected to notice the bad, immediately remembering the laughter and love the pair of you had endured for most of your lives. This was the older brother you never had, as long as you were not counting the entitlements from the last few months, then it was more of some twisted taboo. Inevitably, it was your differences. Cedric had once revealed he’d wait for you, figuring you would eventually reconcile your friendship into anything more. You had just gotten him back, how could you possibly shatter clearly delusional vision? Not to mention your Amortentia already revealed a fate to that of another, you had been caught with said other on multiple occasions (definitely not studying), you admitted to not having those feelings for Cedric, and had previous… interactions with George. Oh, George-- another story.

You couldn’t show Draco the boy you knew better than the raging idiot Cedric had been recently, reduced to only bringing both of your hands to your lips. ‘Draco’, you whispered to his cold skin, letting him indulge in the look of trust traded in your gaze. You trusted him even when he didn’t deserve it, even against Draco’s instruction, he was still your friend. 

Cedric teetered on his feet, unsure what to think at the display of what he would honestly regard as just glaring until one of you caved. To his aberrantly debased luck, it was Draco that groveled and gave in to your request, unable to hold his ground against those big, bright beautiful eyes of yours. Although, if you asked, he only agreed to granting you a second to stop your whining and get Cedric out of his hair. 

Draco mumbled swears under his breath and dropped your hands, walking around you to reach the wardrobe and find a pair of trousers that would have to make due for the moment. He tossed them to you, not about to let Cedric have a conversation with you while you were only dressed in a long jumper. He stood in front of you while you quickly slipped them, still digging daggers into Cedric until you tapped his shoulder. He didn’t turn towards you, just stared bluntly, “I’ll be right outside the door.” He took a few resistant steps towards the door, stopping right before to grimace towards Diggory. “Stay on that fucking side.”

Cedric returned the dirty look, furrowing a brow to where Draco stood. “Is that a threat?” You took another step, the angle that the two of them bordered anxiously alarming your anticipation. You were ready to dive back between them, if necessary. 

Thankfully, Draco shocked you with his slightly more mature retort. “Yes. It most certainly is,” Draco menaced a scowl, fists at his sides enticing Cedric to make a last snarky remark before he slammed the door on his way out of the room. Draco wasn't going anywhere once out in the corridor, he simply crossed the walkway to recline against the opposite wall. He kicked his leg up under him, glaring at the wood staring back at him like he could imagine Cedric's reflection in the timber.

Cedric abided by Draco’s threat, remaining at the opposite side of the room while inspecting the wrist you unintentionally cradled to your chest. Cedric’s stomach churned, faintly painting the puzzle in the gray spectrum of what had happened. “Am I responsible for that?” he asked in a pang of conscience sorrow. You blinked, spacing back into reality once Draco had gone, glancing down at your wrist before tucking it back around your side.

You swallowed the consideration, the idea to just lie about it to him for his own good not competing with the responsibility he needed to take. You nodded your head, “you are.”

Cedric dropped his head into his hands, absolutely furious with himself before gesturing upwards. “And those?” he asked, causing your brows to knit together in confusion.

“Wha—?” you started to question, unsure of what he was currently referencing until he proceeded.

“The ones around your neck?” 

You shook your head, turning a few paces to your side to find the mirror hung beside the wardrobe. “I don’t have—” the words became empty air in your throat, astounded that Cedric’s crappy eyesight had actually caught sight of the faint flecks of rich rose-colored imprints, hidden around the tangled mop of your hair. You didn’t fancy staring at the nest your hair appeared to be without a comb, but the etches of Draco’s fingers were barely visible with the shade of your strands and higher collar of his jumper. You pulled the collar up more, clearing the embarrassment from your throat and pushing away the potentially problematic revelation. “No... That was not you.”

To your curtsey, Cedric let it go when you turned back to face him. He bowed his head, condemned with repentance. “Forgive me, I don’t remember most of it.”

Your words responded sharply before you could stop them, “would you like me to recall? I happen to remember the entirety of your cruel words, Cedric.” Cedric winced, sighing shamefully to himself. It was odd to hear his full first name matched with a stern tone from you, often comparing it to jokes and laughter, or friendly advice rather than disappointment. 

“That’s not necessary. Fred filled me in with what had overheard,” Cedric told you, taking a step towards you that was met by you taking one back. He paused, taking another deep breath, “I’m so sorry. So so sorry, y/n.”

You blinked at him, nearly needing to rub your eyes after his flat apology. “Are you expecting that to be all? You offer a poor apology with a couple of boo-boos on your face, trying to play the pity card after hurting my feelings and starting such commotion? Fighting with Draco?” you were struggling to reign in your own emotions, confronting him becoming much more of an emotional challenge than you had originally wagered.

“I wasn’t thinking straight—“ Cedric was explaining himself, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity, like you had already had this exact conversation with him. 

“Does that happen more often than I am aware of?” you snapped, scowling yourself for not letting him finish and demanding yourself to breathe and consider your words carefully. “I have known you since I was a child and I’ve never questioned your friendship until now. Why?”

Cedric couldn’t offer the truth and you knew it, even asking the question was daring him to admit to the past. He knew that if he confessed to it again, there was a chance he could lose you more than he already had. He let the silence surround him, only able to offer another pale shadow of regret. “I am sorry. I was upset, but I truly did not mean any of it. I am trying... but seeing you around him—”

You raised your voice, holding up a hand to stop him. “That is none of your concern,” you informed him, only left with one possible resolution that seemed to make sense. “I want my friend back, but I will not be judged by you.”

“If I may,” Cedric’s curiosity debated. “what are you thinking is in store once others learn more about you and—”

“It is none of your concern,” you repeated, truthfully not having any kind of plan when it came to peers. You took another breath, and then adjoined a number of steps towards him to meet his gaze and have your earnest endeavor understandable. “I love you, and as much as you hurt me, I can’t think of a life without my best friend. I can forgive you, but I don’t trust you when it comes to this,” “We are no longer one and the same.”

“I can do without until I make it up to you,” Cedric agreed, hopeful but weary grin on his lips. “I would probably prefer it this way, anyhow.”

You mimicked his half-smile, nodding in concurrence. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because—“ you wiggled a brow up at him, waiting for him to walk straight into your ploy until he recognized it. “Oh! A test, my bad. I’m guessing it will be a lot of tongue biting then?”

You couldn’t help the small chuckle from your throat, “from us both.”

“We must be glad Elle is not here then.”

“Good point,” you hummed in an according harmony. You hadn’t thought of Elle since you’d last seen her, hoping that she was not already plastering your portrait around the castle or sending out search teams.

Your silence was comforting in an amicable light adorned with Cedric’s extended hand. “I love you, teacup,” he announced with a genuine grin. You stared down at his hand, finding that the wedge that had been struck between you was far more confusing that you had initially implored. Right now, you were both at a crossroads of trying to recover a tested friendship. However, if you were to reckon your friendship to that of a solemn handshake, you would be lying to yourself. 

You rolled your eyes, pushing away his hand and casting yourself up onto your tippy toes to wrap around him, “I love you too, blimey git.” Cedric froze in disbelief, pleasantly surprised by your dear embrace and enclosing his own arms around your back. Your hug was brief, but you begged it to be the turning point for the conflicts with Cedric. You didn’t want a friendship with him where you couldn’t divulge every detail of your day, even if Draco was a part of that day. You didn’t want to keep stuff from him, but it was too much to have him involved so apparently when he harbored such hatred for a life that was destined for you. 

“Vulgar,” Draco commented from the doorway, slowly dropping you down onto your heels. You huffed dramatically at his crude but intentionally comedic commentary, not even noticing the door had opened, let alone Draco’s sudden stare. He emerged back into his own quarters, seizing your hand to wind a distance back between you and Cedric, holding your hand to his side and thrashing his opposite arm towards the door for the Hufflepuff boy. “Awful seeing you, Diggory, as usual. Get that faced looked at, will you?”

Cedric brushed off his comment with a silent scoff. You leaned your cheek upon Draco’s shoulder, sighing softly, “actually—”

Draco peered down at you, withholding a groan. “What is it now?”

You explained that your wand was still with Ginny in Gryffindor and making a trip while it was still early seemed most convenient. You didn’t want to disturb any plans the others had made for the day, so dropping by in the morning made sense. Most likely to anyone but Draco, who was already peeved with the disruption that he proposed bluntly, “make Diggory fetch it for you-- it gives him a purpose since he is still here.” Draco glared at the boy who just stood in his quarters, minding his own while subtly listening into the conversation until Draco mentioned him.

You glanced at Cedric as well, just as he shrugged his shoulders. “I apologize, I’m no longer involved in this. I’m just here for a friend at this point,” you smiled to yourself at the assertion, nodding toward him in approval while Draco’s brows trenched in candid confusion. 

“What in the bloody hell is that supposed to—“ you nudged Draco with your cheek, telling him to let it go without question. Draco was still just as puzzled, but Cedric agreed to walk with you to Gryffindor, even after Draco argued that you had feet and could make the walk by yourself, refusing to offer himself as an escort. Draco couldn’t debate the importance of your wand, falling short in his chance at convincing you to find an alternative. He walked over to his wardrobe again and retrieved your skirt from when you’d showered together weeks ago, forcing Cedric to wait in the hall while you changed into the proper bottoms. 

“I can't do anything about your feet, but that is your doing so I am not responsible there. I can always send one of the first years to Gryffindor on your behalf,” Draco suggested, tossing you a pair of socks while setting himself down on the foot of the bed to watch as you discarded his loose trousers and slinked the skirt up over the jumper. You unraveled the sleeves of Draco’s jumper and slipped on his socks, giggling gently at his recommendation while brushing your fingers through your strands to tame the mess.

“Brilliant idea, but I would prefer collecting it myself,” you rationalized. “Thank you for holding onto this, I had totally forgotten where I had left it,” you thanked him for the skirt while settling momentarily onto his lap with your hands plopped upon his shoulders. 

“You? Forgetful? Shocker,” Draco chimed in a sarcastic sound. He sounded like a frustrated child, draping one arm around your waist to tighten you to his chest. You moved a hand to cup his cheek, leaning down to press your lips to his own. He returned the kiss, straightening up into your frame with a hand around the back of your neck and bringing you deeper into his hold. You smiled against his lips, pulling away before you were both unable to separate, Cedric still patiently waiting on the opposite side of the door. 

“If you want me to return so bad, all you have to do is ask,” you muttered lightly to his brims, laughing as Draco’s dramatics caused his head to roll back in annoyance.

“I don’t ask--”

“You should try,” you interrupted, hopping off his lap before he could catch you and skipping towards the door. You paused with your hand on the knob, shrugging a smirk from your delicate lips, “after all, it’s not like I can read your mind, you know.” You conveyed a clever wink, disappearing around the door to desert Draco and the new discomfort in his trousers. He snickered to the solitude of his quarters, resisting the strong compelled craving to charge after you and drag you back into the room to repeat all of last night’s highs. 

You slipped from Slytherin with Cedric, trying to be stealthy, but honestly just ignoring the stares you received as you both emerged into the corridor. You were able to rectify a friendly discussion, topics ranging from your birthday to your studies, until he caught you staring at the wounds on his face. He assured you it looked worse than it felt, but changed tones when he’d asked about how you were, even after you warned him to drop it. He caught your arm right before you reached Gryffindor, dragging you off to the side to offer the beginnings of a lecture after plucking the collar of Draco’s jumper down to reveal the love marks. You stopped him before he could threaten Draco as he had done, explaining that you were not being hurt. Cedric didn’t understand it, and you couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t pain. 

Cedric surrendered to your request to drop the subject, ending with mutter you caught under his breath. “You’re just as mad as he is. Here,” Cedric deemed, freeing the scarf from around his neck and dropping it into your hands before storming off a couple steps ahead of you. You accepted it, muttering under your breath at his dramatics, and then proceeding to follow after Cedric. Your chatter was cut short when you rounded the corner to find Dean and Seamus stepping out of the entrance to Gryffindor.

“Y/n! Diggory!” Dean exclaimed, stepping out into the corridor before Seamus. “To what do we owe the privilege?”

“Seamus. Dean,” you and Cedric beamed back at the boys as they were on their way out, Cedric continuing for you both with a friendly handshake exchanged with the pair of them. “Would you mind letting us in?” Dean and Seamus swapped a furrowed brow, leading you to explain further.

“Ginny’s got my wand stashed from last night,” you expressed with a tender smile to Seamus and Dean. They both hummed with your answer, holding open the portrait passageway. Dean tilted his head down at your socks, but didn't question and shrugged a shoulder instead.

“Of course! We’re going to grab a bite, but we’ll see you later!” Dean called, parting with Seamus in the opposite direction once you’d both started down toward the Gryffindor Common Room.

“See you!” Cedric and you called backwards, letting the door close behind you prior to your full descent into the Common Room. You followed him, familiar but not too sure about your steps into Gryffindor. You’d been in attendance here much more recently, but still failed to figure the house in the same light of your own. Cedric emerged into the opening first, immediately attracting the attention of those occupied around the Common Room. He was greeted primarily by Harry, who jumped to his feet seeing both of you on your way down. 

“Glad to see you in one piece, Diggory,” Harry announced, crossing the room in a number of steps to welcome you both and then motion you over to join the rest of the group settled on the floor near an open window. You all exchanged friendly greetings as you nestled into a seat between Neville and Ron. You took a gander around the circle to find you were missing Ginny, after having already said a quick salutation to Dean and Seamus. Neville had the same Herbology textbook open in his lap, you made conversation with the quieter boy about his night and the small bandage wrapped around his thumb after he'd made a comment about your socks with no slippers. Neville brushed your question off, explaining he’d nicked it on the thorn of a plant in the Greenhouses after helping Fred and a friend with a couple of injuries. Your brow furrowed, until you followed Neville’s gaze to where Cedric grinned gratefully back at him. While the others chattered with Cedric, Neville confirmed he’d helped tend to Cedric’s injuries from the fight he was not present for, explaining that Fred had dragged Cedric to the Greenhouses to track Neville down for help, knowing Longbottom had just begun studying herbal healing and natural remedies. 

When the topic shifted back to the brawl, you quieted down and Cedric took the chance to address them all. “Listen, I’m sorry for what you had to see last night— I was not in my right mind and I owe each of you an apology.”

“Like hell,” Ron chuckled, tossing a pretzel up into the air and failing to catch it before it landed on the carpet. You tilted your head at the youngest Weasley brother. 

“Ron’s right, Cedric,” Harry acknowledged, nudging his shoulder into Cedric. 

“Got that right,” Neville agreed, not even glancing up from his book. You traded your gaze around the circle as everyone agreed in a unanimous unity. 

“Even Hermione’s had a go at him,” Ron encouraged, causing you and Cedric to both snap your attention to the curly-haired girl. 

“No!” you exclaimed, wide eyes of intrigue searching Hermione’s bright blushing. She curtseyed a slight shrug, sinking into her own frame. If only you’d witnessed that. He was quite possibly ten times worse last year, but then again, you had a soft spot for him and his cruelty, didn’t you? Sort of a biased opinion.

“Yes!” Ron hollered cheerfully, reminiscing in the prior year’s shenanigans. He was still confused about how it all turned out, but it worked out in the end and he couldn’t argue with it. Replaying the image of Hermione hitting Draco was just a highlight, almost as much fun as remembering when he’d pounced on him first year. “Great times. She gave him a good ol’ punch right in the face, just last year! It was bloody brilliant!”

You all laughed at Ron’s eager excitement, even though a part of you was uneasy at the notion it was Draco at the core of their discussion. “Good on you, Granger!” Cedric leaned forward with his hand raised high, truly bathing in attention as you began to pick nervously at your nails. You were unaware that Neville had glanced over to see your hands anxiously fidgeting in your lap.

“Thanks. Had been a rather good experience, if I could say so myself,” Hermione high-fived Cedric, happily content with the reaction. Upon a further ponder, you weren’t fond of slapping him, then again, you didn’t like violent reactions at all. 

“I’m so upset I missed it,” Cedric shook his head with a disappointed sigh. 

“Long story short,” Harry started, leaving Hermione to chime in right after him. 

“We know how Malfoy is,” Hermione clarified, interrupted but completed by Ron, who nudged your shoulder as if you would agree. 

“And he probably deserved it,” Ron included, making sure his intent was understood, “times a couple dozen.”

You nudged him right back, playfully. “I thought finishing one another’s sentences was strictly a Fred and George talent?” you exchanged a look across the circle, realizing the trio hadn’t even intentionally finished one another’s remarks. They all just figured it would resonate with Cedric.

A voice from behind you sounded, “what are they copying from me now?”

You simply tilted your head up, not able to translate the source as quickly as you normally could. You were flushed with worry, but soothed with a bright smile when Fred stuck his tongue down at you. “Freddie!” you greeted him, trying not to sound too relieved.

“Y/n! Hello darling! How are you?” Fred reached down to ruffle his hand through your strands, grinning down at you. You noticed only Lee trailed after him, grinning as he walked straight to Cedric. 

“Very well, thanks,” you responded, nodding up at him politely. Fred saw the question forming on your lips, but both of you were uncertain it would leave your lips until you exhaled gently, “and George?”

The mystery of Ginny’s whereabouts was suddenly resolved when her voice answered before Fred. “What? Like ripping out his heart was not enough?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GINERVA WEASLEY. Once again, I would like to reiterate that this is strictly how I have written the characters and their personalities for the story. Please try to understand their perspectives and the desired maturity of the story, even though the end was a bit rushed. Drop some comments saying you liked it or hated it, I won't be offended (just sad if you did hate it, but I appreciate criticism) or feel free to leave Kudos if you would like to keep writing. I've got a general direction, but it seems easy until you start writing all of it. Anyways, I love you, you precious little angel!


	17. Fabricated Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You only ventured to Gryffindor to retrieve your wand, you weren't inspecting a cold interrogation from the youngest and quite possibly most innocent Weasley. Not all is great with Draco following your leave either. In an interruptive twist, there is news to be heard by all and stories to be told to just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another apology since it feels like an eternity, but I had taken a vacation and suffered some unfavorable writer's block but we're back! Thank you for coming to read, and thank you for those who have been reading! In addition to remembering to drop your thoughts in the comments after reading, I also want to know if there are any non-Hufflepuff readers, I don't want to be objective about houses but I hope my story is enjoyable to all because I love everyone. Anyways, not exactly a smut warning for this chapter, but a definite FLUFF WARNING at the end. Love you!

Draco ...

It was quiet following the sound of Draco’s isolated chuckle as you fled quickly from his quarters, abandoning him to his own lonesome in exasperated silence sept with a sigh groaned groggily from his throat. He adjusted his trousers before standing and dragging a hand over his face on his way to tidy up for the day. Draco had a number of tasks he ought to have attended to after you departed from your quarters, thankfully dismissing the Diggory headache along with you, which he actually resented reluctantly. He was not fond of allowing you taking your leave so early in the day, irritated with his own impatience about wanting to greedily keep you to himself for another couple hours. 

He splashed handfuls of cold water on his face, already distraught with the vexed resentment of not having the events go in his favor, especially being abandoned knowing you were off with Cedric. Draco was aggravated, but could not get the image of your bust overflowing out of the top of his sheets as it was lousily draped around your body just before you found one of his jumpers, out of his head, in addition to the heat from your ass as you had tried to pin him to the desk. He wanted to keep his mentality keen on hatred towards Cedric and could manage a small grudge against you, at least until you returned, but he was nothing but pitiful failing at any attempt to rid himself from thoughts of you.

Draco was losing it with himself. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, head rolling back with a soothing crack as your presence filled his senses and awakened his cock in a most unruly fire. He was convinced he could have ignored it, but once again, pathetically failed to do so with the throbbing of his cock only intensifying at the vision of you echoing through his mind. It was involuntary, but he selfishly succumbed to his own needs and kicked off his trousers without another hesitation. He peeled the hem of his shirt up over his abdomen and clenched it between his teeth, letting the cold water swirl the drain as a taunting tune. 

He thought of only you, allowing everything inside of him to train solely upon you as he guided his hand up and down the length of his pulsating cock. Draco recalled the sweet succulent siren song of your savory sounds from last night as he stroked his hand over the head of his stiff cock, the divine drumming of his pelvis against your thighs and the heavenly chorus of your moans seemed to echo off the bathroom walls, almost as if you were actually there. Draco’s body tensed, the memory of your sweat-stained features slick to his own and the bounce of your breasts with every thrust toying with his early climax. You were everywhere and Draco was surrendering to the daunting dread of your exquisite enticement, unable to contain or control the lullaby lured to the dangerous desire of you, even in solidarity. He didn’t want to think of you; it was the last thing he truly fancied considering Draco had enough to deal with without the impulsive, aching allure of you. 

He was close, the pace of his own pleasuring hastening with intent to expel you from his veins and adhere to the remainder of his day’s routine. Draco drew a sharp inhale, grinding his jaw against the cotton fabric of his shirt as it grated between his teeth while his hand continued over his cock. Your kiss on his skin materialized menacingly through his mind, entrancing the hairs on the back of his neck and a series of tiny bumps over his limbs. He was igniting the flames that exploded like a fire so quickly he barely realized the low groan that escaped his tightened teeth at the same time of his sudden ejaculation. He was so lost in his own searing daze that he barely realized he had cum until the tension soothed instead to a tender tune of your tranquil hum.

Draco cursed silently to himself, cleaning himself up and the slight mess on the sink before swatting the knob of the shower faucet into a scorching stream. A hot haze began to fill the room as he flung his shirt off and stepped into the sweltering shower steam. He needed to get it together, but the distraught delusions of a real desire damned Draco. What was it about you that was so fucking special? He picked you apart in his head, still unable to answer his own questions as he poorly attempted to scrub you free from his pores. Draco deemed he was actually damned and finished showering, tugging on a pair of trousers and a dark moss green Slytherin jumper and using his wand to tidy the mess of books and such he’d thrown from his desk, before heading down to the Common Room. 

Once he’d stepped down into the slightly crowded room, Draco began with knocking a book over the back of Goyle’s head once he located him and the other guys chatting around the fireplace with Pansy in the center, painting her nails a spider black-shade. Goyle began apologizing, explaining that “he” had just slipped in and he hadn’t noticed until Draco was already waiting in the hall while you were lousily forgiving Cedric’s cowardice behaviors pointlessly all over again. Draco’s normal spot was accidentally taken by a younger boy, Harper, who had just barely taken a seat when he saw Draco coming and nearly fell over Pansy with how fast he launched out of Draco’s seat. He scurried away muttering an apology as well while Draco glared, ready to scowl the foolish lad as he took his rightful place among the head of the group. Draco was uninterested in this morning’s gossip which seemed to orchestrate around the Tournament and inevitably back to Diggory and Potter. 

The only person Draco just barely trusted with his secrets surrounding you was Goyle, he was the only one who had decided himself responsible to cover for Draco. The others had their diminutive suspicions obviously, but knew better than to dare and question Malfoy. Other Slytherins had also been in attendance this morning; Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Graham Montague were also all seated in the submergence of Draco’s reign over the entire room, witness to the courted counsel all seemed to answer. It was Goyle on his right that nudged his arm first, Draco’s brows furrowing seeing his friend’s attention zoned out towards something straight ahead. Draco followed his gaze to where a buoyant bundle of Beauxbaton girls began to file in, no doubt immediately met with Charlotte’s gaze as she smiled with a small wave--one of the tiresome tasks he’d been forced to tend most intolerably to this day. Draco returned a fake grin, swearing just under his breath in an annoyed glance towards where Goyle sat. 

“Excuse me,” Draco exempt himself to the group, rising from his token throne tall over the rest of the room, even on his way to depart towards where Charlotte had just entered. He was not able to utter a syllable when he reached her, immediately met with Charlotte throwing herself into his frame and smashing her lips suddenly to his own. Draco didn’t pull back as soon as he should have, blaming it on initial surprise with her actions rather than his own tempting interest. Draco stepped aside with his hands on her sides, slowly pushing her back to her own feet, only confusing Charlotte who still kept a bit too close with her hands neatly placed upon his shoulders. She interrupted her own greeting with questioning about his well-being, slightly lost to being faced with objection when it came to their special activities. Normally, it was all he really expected of her. Draco interjected her concern, “can I speak with you for a moment?” Charlotte nodded her head to agree, intrigue raised suggestively upon her brows. Draco groaned mentally, slipping her hands from his shoulders to lead her down the corridor near his secluded ‘Prefect’ quarters. He didn’t invite her inside, which was also strange because Charlotte had already begun to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse. Draco paused, almost allowing her to finish before he stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Not exactly,” he attested, though certainly liking the way her mind worked. 

Draco didn’t plan out a lecture about their differences, he just dismissed her coldly and callously acknowledged the fun they had while messing around. Charlotte was reasonably puzzled at the declaration, attempting to create an argument over how they were certainly more than just goofing off since they had been intimate for weeks. Draco snickered, placing a hand upon her cheek as he explained, “you certainly helped to pass the time, but that’s all you were to me. Please do not get me wrong, you most definitely were rather fun in bed, but I am truthfully not interested. You’re not my type, and quite honestly, I’ve had better--” Draco didn’t get to finish his inconsiderate declaration, immediately silenced by Charlotte’s palm as it slapped across his cheek. Charlotte had spat in French, still cursing Draco as she spun around and stomped away. Draco rubbed his cheek, smirking to himself as he watched her leave. 

He could riddle a lie out of thin air, obviously only interested in her from the first time he’d seen her because she was a spitting image of you. Charlotte had been receiving a tour from Crabbe when Draco stumbled in, all furious about catching you that afternoon after the paint incident with George. One look at her and he realized he could have you in some twisted sense of delusional desire, cutting in and stealing any shot Crabbe had with Charlotte. At first, he was just charming her to get into her pants, much like he had done you, but when he noticed how jealous it made you, he deemed it best to keep her as bitter leverage. Eventually, he’d gotten annoyed, but he still had needs. Why did he feel the need to actually end things with her? It wasn’t like you had begged him to do so directly, so why do it at all? He was still under the impression he could lie to himself about caring about you, rattling things over mentally as he returned to the others.

“All well, Malfoy?” Goyle asked, truly the only one that had noticed he’d stepped away for a moment and arrived back with a red lightly stained to his cheek after a flustered French girl left with her companions, crying utterly dramatically. Goyle was not fluent in French, but had common sense about Draco’s endeavors and could rationally understand the majority of events without any explanation from Draco. What had his friend believed? Draco was corrupting Hufflepuff after having his share of other ventures, and he found a favorite. Would he ever question Draco about his intentions with a Hufflepuff like you? Not if he valued life and his statue in Slytherin, only made respectable by following in Draco and his father’s steps. 

“Exceptionally, of course,” Draco muttered to Goyle, reclining into his chair with a subtle nod towards his friend. The conversation had taken a turn, having Pansy and Crabbe currently arguing with Blaise and Theodore over a game of who would you rather, exempt of their own house. Draco snickered to himself, knowing Pansy Parkinson was not the adventurous trollop she appeared to vindicate around the boys as she rattled off names, eventually making his blood boil with a timely round back to Diggory. Draco’s nails curled stiffly into the arms of the chair, a tense tighten of his jaw just at the mention of relations with Cedric, something the pathetic git seemed only interested in addressing from you.

“Cedric Diggory is nothing but a dumb bloke. I should have done much more damage to that feign sham of a goody-boy face of his,” Draco snapped suddenly intervening in the discussion. The room seemed to silence with his outburst, hard hatred strict on his pale features that was recognized by all. 

“Sorry Draco,” Pansy apologized for mentioning his name, leaning against Draco with her hand placed upon his knee and her chin perched atop. She tried to fabricate a slinky, seductive smile up at him, batting her spider-like lashes up at him. Draco ignored her, almost rolling his eyes at her gesture but allowing her to rest so closely. 

It was Theodore who broke the tension, elbowing Blaise with a small chuckle. “Not like Parkinson had a chance anyways,” Theo teased, receiving an offended kick from Pansy and an approving, but slight sparing smirk from Draco. 

“Nott, I swear I am two seconds away from--” Pansy’s playful threat was interrupted by Blaise placing his hand upon her shoulder to defend Theo and calm Pansy. 

“Oh Parkinson, it’s true,” Blaise informed her, shrugging his shoulders with a small titter of his own, “you would think that poor geezer was practically married to that odd ditz-- the Hufflepuff?” Draco went as still as a statue, the pale ceramic shades in his face scorning with riled anger muted in his slipping control. They didn’t know what they were saying, they had no idea but it was easy to suggest you were the center of Blaise’s suggestion. What was Draco more enraged with? The fact Blaise referred to you as an ‘odd ditz’ (which Draco wouldn’t argue with), or he would provoke the idea of you and Cedric together at all? Goyle noticed the subtle reaction shifted in Draco, the knuckles bore around the arms of the chair seeming to white with Draco’s nails baring into the wooden frame. Goyle leaned forward to insert him into the conversation with an intent to quickly change the subject for Draco’s benefit, but was regrettably not as fast as Crabbe was.

“Oh yeah, that weird little witch! The l/n girl he’s always with!” Draco felt it fume in his chest before it exploded in his veins and the rage snapped through a mere grip on the chair.

Interim in Gryffindor …

The room was stunned to stuped silence, disbelief rampantly abundant in a rich wall tensed through all of them. You felt your stomach churn in uneasy sorrow that immediately regretted warranting the misplaced feeling swarmed in your insides from being here at all. You wanted to apologize and explain yourself as abstrusely as possible, but everything just bore unbearably in your throat. Thankfully, Fred was the first to speak, scowling his younger sister immediately with a disapproving frown. “Ginerva—!” 

“Fred--” Ginny immediately shot back, hands folded across her chest with a forced glare down at where you stressfully sat, not even able to fidget anxiously at the abruptly unfavorable attention. Fred was ready to drag the girl off by her ear, although he was currently battling a rather annoying headache booming through his head at the same time his sister chose to boost his troubles. 

You felt responsible for the uncomfortable atmosphere heavy through the group, unaware that word had traveled so fast regarding your decision with George. You couldn’t train your focus to take in all of the other’s appearances, but they were all agreeably critical over Ginny’s rather rude accusation. To your surprise, even Ron gathered enough context to attempt an approach to Ginny through reason. “Gin,” he barely began before you reached out and dropped a hand upon his shoulder. This was not his fight, nor was it Fred’s, regardless of the dispute being declared by their younger sister. 

You caught your breath, “no, it’s alright.” You took a quick gander around the room, even Cedric’s eyes had fixed to the floor. Some noble hero of yours, all talk just last night, but it was not his conflict either. You caught a contrite glimpse from Hermione and you questioned the small circle, “you’ve all heard?”

“Truthfully?” Hermione asked, nearly wanting to just decline any involvement of the drama she was well aware of learning earlier that morning. Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry, who was still staring straight at Ginny, almost impressed but also astounded that a tone like that could come from the girl he was already figuring as such a typically introverted girl. 

Realizing that Harry was not the smallest help, she turned back to Ron, who simply shrugged his shoulders and emitted a blatantly honest nod. “We have,” Ron informed you, clearing his throat with brows cocked to where Fred sunk in his seat, hand drooping from his face.

Fred realized the group had turned to direct all expectant stares to him and muttered an unfortunate chuckle under his breath, “I… am no good at secrets.” 

You had to actually instruct yourself to contain the giggle that wanted to surface with his defeated admission, “why am I not surprised?” A grin grew weak upon Fred’s brims, surprised you seemed to accept his confession rather than become upset with him. He may have been the more confrontational twin, but not in this state-- he needed a few drinks or possibly a nap to regain his full attitude’s return. You held his gaze, a sad sparkle in your eyes as you asked, “where is he?”

Fred was not given a chance at answering the question when Ginny slammed her shoulder against the stone wall, eyes flared down at you. “Out,” she snapped. “What’s it to you? You’ve got more to stand to embarrass him?”

“Ginny!” Fred glowered again, ignoring your hand which reached out to stop him as he was already bouncing up onto his feet and Ginny was pushing off the wall to take a firm stance before him. You couldn’t climb to your feet fast enough, pins and needles poking at your legs whilst they scattered shakily under you. 

“No,” Ginny announced angrily. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just welcome her back after she’s hurt our brother like that!” Her impatient insult was directed at you, but she refused to meet your gaze as you stood between her and Fred, surprisingly not as intimidated as you may have thought after she’d grown up in a home with six elder brothers. You were trying to find the words when Fred from behind you slumped back comfortably in his chair, pulling you down to the carpet again, confusing you further as the twin spoke without echoing in your ear.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ginny,” you turned to face Fred, but he smirked back at you and you realized his lips didn’t move at all. A backwards chair swiveled around beside him and George plopped down into the group. All of your concern cured, tension dissolving into the warm air invited with George’s rescue. Everyone but Fred and Lee were really all equally happy and reveled to see him, you figured the cocky smirk flashed on Fred’s lips was because his strange twin senses realized George was already there and he too, was saved. Lee Jordan, on the other hand, had just been observing the theatrics pleasantly from just outside the circle.

“George,” Ginny breathed, startled at the sudden appearance as Fred seemed to fall before her eyes just as George rose to take his place in the disgruntled dissent. George glanced momentarily down to you and the ricocheting of nervous nick-picking over whether or not he hated you jumped out the window the moment he casted you a friendly wink. That split-second gesture told you everything you needed to know; George Weasley had your back even after you had determined you couldn’t truly be with him. You spiraled with happy smiles, only drowning inside because you felt you didn’t deserve his friendship or protection right now.

George leaned into the back of the chair, clasping his hands loudly to address the group, “I’ll set the record straight for everyone. Especially you, Gin. I don’t want to hear anything like that from you again, am I understood?” Ginny was quiet, features softening with George’s more or less forthright further explanation. “We are just friends. If you must know, it was a mutual decision that quite honestly does not concern you. However, if you still find the need to have any problem with it, you direct your attitude towards me,” George declared proudly, only receiving a playful punch in the shoulder by Fred at his side.

Fred threw his other hand up towards Ginny, “look what you did, Gin! You upset the gangly bastard.” George shoved Fred right back, mirrored chuckling chorusing from both twins. Ron launched a pretzel towards Fred, shouldering you with his own enjoyment. 

“And what does that make you, Fred?” Ron hummed, content with the current conformant resolved by George. He was ready to help break the tension by teasing sarcastically and quite frankly, beating George to the punch.

“The better looking bastard will do,” Fred flared his collar dapperly, chin raised ever so confidently. The group was not slow to humble him, also erupting with a humorous howl of laughter. George just about knocked him from his chair, joining in the laughter that soothed a slight smile from Ginny and welcomed friendly familiarity back into you. George decided to rule your settlement as a shared verdict, a joint agreement that it had never been, but was evident to begin to clear the air for you. George was still protecting you and you owed him a great deal for it.

“Yeah right,” George rolled his eyes at the ego of his reflection, leaning forward to catch Ginny’s hand with a reassuring squeeze. “Ginny, I did not ask for you to speak on my behalf, especially when I had originally told none of you but my obviously discreet and trusting twin,” George glared momentarily to Fred, who quickly cracked his head towards the wall to prevent taking responsibility for being a charming chatterbox all over Gryffindor. George continued, “thank you for trying to stand up for me, dear little booger, but you cannot treat people like that-- especially not your friends.” 

You tightened the scarf around your neck whilst tucking a strand of hair from your face, how many times must the universe remind you how much you did not deserve a boy as kind as George Weasley? It was candidly cruel and you were quite sick of the odd irony brought by your own fate. Saved from an inner breakdown by Fred whimsically launching his finger into Ginny’s gut. “Careful there, Gin,” he warned while Ginny giggled and slapped his hand away. “It sounds like he’ll throw you straight into Slytherin himself if you continue to act like a brat.” Ginny swiftly scooped a pillow from behind Ron and used it to wack Fred, only seeming to create a harmonious laughter lighten from the group which rejoiced the needed dismissal of tension and returned to upbeat conversation. 

You were glad Ginny and Fred were now exchanging rather loud jabs so you could lean towards George’s chair, stealing his attention from his sibling’s bickering. “Thank you,” you whispered, ever so gracefully grateful for George. “You didn’t need to do that for me--” 

George shook his head, a definite decision already trenched in his brows when he cut you off. “What do you mean? It’s the truth,” he repeated, head tilted down to yours so that only you could see the repeated wink secreted between you. A sincere smile spread a scarlet saturation to the blush of your cheeks and you bowed your head, the curve of your spine drawing your hands to fold neatly in your lap. 

“Thank you,” you uttered warmly, leaving one last thing to the secret decree exchanged in the background of the broad discussion bartering beside you. Ginny sighed, both her and Fred’s voice having muted into the background while you thanked George until she crouched down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” the gentle ginger apologized before you could stop her. “Come on, I’ll take you up to get your wand from the boy’s dormitory,” she had your hand and had tugged you to your feet before you realized you were up again. You laughed, following her as she quickly informed Neville they were on their way up to his to retrieve your wand.

“Alright! Let me know if you need help, I think I may have moved it around to find a book or two,” Neville called after you and Ginny, the pair of you already disappeared up the small staircase before Neville could finish his explanation. Ginny was ranting an additional apology clarification on your way up, saying she just didn’t understand and had been upset for her brother, especially since she hadn’t seen him all morning after the party last night and heard about you and him from Fred, of all people. 

“Ginny, it’s alright!” you exclaimed, covering her hand with both of your own to comfort your younger friend, who had just as soon greeted you with such cold hostility. “I respect your loyalty to your family, I know you only have George’s best at heart. I’m sure I would have behaved the exact same if someone interfered with their feelings, but please know, I never intended to--” 

Ginny slipped her hand from your own and clasped both hands on either side of your shoulders, an alleviated nod disbanding your need to explain yourself. “Hey, George is right,” Ginny sighed, corner of her lips turning into a hopeful smile. “It’s not my place to know everything about you two. Although, I will admit I was a bit disappointed you didn’t want to be a future Weasley,” your jaw dropped at the cheeky buoyancy brought about in Ginny, laughter leaving your lips with the bright blush that followed, leaning into her shoulder as you both stepped into the boy’s quarters. 

“Ginny!” you blurted through fits of shared laughs, instantly flustered and full of amicable warmth from sarcasm exchanged between friends. You were not mad at her for being so blunt, even if it was convicted with such coldness, it was justifiable. You couldn’t blame Ginny for voicing her truth. You did hurt George and you knew making a decision between the boys you cared for most was not going to be easy on anyone. You were aware Draco was your soulmate, but something in you figured just ignoring it was enough to allow anything beyond what was destined for you with a boy that had no intention of letting you in. You still weren’t sure if anything had changed with Draco, but couldn’t complain more than inner conflicts that still surrounded the pretenses of a confusing connection. Perhaps you were being foolish with George, or perhaps you believed you could fix it by not having to fix Draco Malfoy— you were still undecided. Destiny; it was not easily understandable.

You had never upset Ginny, so hearing such strong distaste from her was quite surprising, but you were a bit confused to hear it from her versus Fred, who was being considerably average towards you. Fred’s kindness had momentarily granted you optimism about the possibilities of a friendship remaining between you and George, something that shattered quite easily with Ginny’s intrusion but rekindled immediately with George’s timely arrival.

You had taken a seat upon the edge of Ron’s bed while Ginny rummaged through Neville’s nightstand, legs folding under you as a soft whistle thrummed from your lips. Why Ron’s bed? It felt abnormally forbidden to sit upon the bed of the almighty “chosen one”, meanwhile, Ron’s bed looked as though he had been jumping on it since last night and you decided to neatly tuck in his sheets while Ginny searched for your wand. You were distracted by the bed when her voice came around from the nightstand, “can I ask you something, y/n?” 

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation, not sure whether or not allowing it so quickly would come back to bite you in the arse. Ginny marveled with a triumphant sigh once she’d presented you with your wand, placing it in your lap before jumping up onto the bed right next to you.

Ginny seemed to fiddle with the tip of her slipper, “what is it like?” When your silence only replied with a deeper puzzle torn between your brows as you tried to riddle out her vague query. Ginny grinned at you and nudged your shoulder, dropping her head upon your shoulder. You were so calm and utterly fooled by her caring comfort that you had unexpected any of this. “I saw the way he looked at you last night, y/n, when you thought no one was looking in a room packed with people? The way he looked at you, and the way you looked at him... Do you love him?”

You were lost; mainly because the sympathetic solace had brought your guard down and summoned oblivious obscurity that you only tilted your head down to Ginny, “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue—”

Ginny didn’t look up at you, barely moving as her delicate digits danced across the perfect bow atop her slippers. “Draco,” she declared unmistakably salient, not allowing any opportunity to deny or lie as she evicted her verity as a genuine gospel that narrowed a numbness into your nerves with two measly syllables. “Do you love him?”

A few unsure moments later …

You were back in the circle of Gryffindor students spread out upon the carpet of the Common room, laughing currently about mocking stories from Ron’s childhood as recalled by the elder ginger twins. George had captivated the room in excitement just as the door banged open, and all at once, four boys sprinted into the room. They were in a jumbled mess trying to stop themselves while just about tripping over one another, only really identifiable once they stopped fully. Neither group was able to greet their members as Zacharias pushed himself to the front of the pack with Anthony Rickett right behind him. “There you two are! Merlin’s sake, we have been looking everywhere—“ Zacharias exclaimed partially, his arms failing upwards in an exacerbated victory fling, ended short by Cedric.

You laughed, following Cedric to your feet out of curiosity. Why were they on the search for the pair of you? You understood Cedric’s buddies to come hunt him down, but Zacharias bursting out of achievement with ties to the both of you was reason for alarm. Cedric waved a hand and Zacharias returned to huffing for breath, Cedric turning to motion you but abruptly surprised to see you already right behind him. Cedric grinned momentarily down at you, forcing you to snap him out of it so you could return his attention to Zacharias, who was obviously in distress beside Anthony. “Nevermind that, Zacharias, what is it?” Cedric questioned, gaze switching between both boys to whoever would produce an answer first, preferably without yacking. 

“Sprout,” Anthony answered while Zacharias panted, hunched over his knees like the poor boy was ready to vomit. Anthony was stretching his arms above his head, still breathing hard but not as obviously distressed as Zacharias’ theatrical display. You would have thought he’d ran four cycles around the castle with how hard he was breathing. “She has called for an impromptu house announcement—“

“Immediately!” Zacharias hollered, rushing you and Cedric with Anthony and introducing an annoying haste by intolerably clapping his hands together. They cleared out of the other’s way to reveal Dean and Seamus as the last two still out of breath from the running gander back to Gryffindor.

“Dean, Seamus, are you—?“ Hermione took a step forward to address them, but Dean straightened up, muttering something about a good race to Anthony and Zacharias before approaching his housemates. 

“McGonagall has summoned the same!” Dean advised the room, everyone jumping to their feet to tidy before their Head of Household arrived. Was it just a race between these foolish boys? You were under the belief they had rushed here to find you for an important house announcement, not with the pretenses of a competition with Gryffindor. Why were you also not entirely surprised when Seamus swore and stuffed a slint of silver into Zacharias’ palm. Perhaps Seamus Finnigan had some trouble with wagers he was not inclined to win, unfortunately being the last boy to flounder into the house. You dismissed the comment, also shoving Cedric towards the exit as he attempted to exchange sarcastically mushy goodbyes with the Weasley twins. You rolled your eyes, calling final farewells to the group while practically having to walk Cedric out of the room. You all laughed, not even free from the Gryffindor portrait and out into the corridor when Zacharias turned backwards on his heel and presented the sickle from Seamus high above the Hufflepuff quartet. 

He was clearly wagering against the boys, his brows scrunched afferently when he caught a glimpse of you straightening your scarf and adjusting your socks with an approving smirk from Cedric. He was going to call you out for it, and you tempted him with a quirked brow, inviting one of the many insults he had at the ready for this exact occasion. He didn’t say anything, just slipped the coin back into his trousers and you all steadied at the same tile, shoulder to shoulder. You glanced to your left, Cedric wiggled a competitive brow, and to your right, Anthony clicked his tongue, a pep in his hesitant step. Thankfully, you lost Zacharias over Anthony.

Zacharias began the count, “3, 2--” he was gone before he’d even gotten to one, but Cedric started off right beside him, predicting his antics the moment Zacharias offered a race. But of course, you and Anthony barely managed to kick off after they’d already begun sprinting down the corridor back to Hufflepuff. Damn Smith, you should have seen that one coming. What else should you have seen coming? Getting absolutely ditched in the dirt by Rickett, the modest and strapping young Quidditch Beater. 

Quite honestly, you would have lost entirely, if not for Cedric distracting Zacharias with an ankle shot out to trip the teasing twit. Instead, you managed a respectable settlement tied for third with Smith, bested by Cedric, who took the staircases in long leaps, which outran Anthony by barely a meter. Zacharias was still complaining while he stubbornly flipped the sickle with his thumb to Cedric on his way through the Hufflepuff portrait. Anthony gave you a high-five which you encouragingly accepted and Cedric tousled your hair with a hip jab as he flashed his one sickle proudly. You mocked him playfully, all of you freezing once you reached the last step into the Common Room. By the time you all stumbled quite loudly down the staircase into the Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout had heard you coming and actually stopped her entire presentation to the House to denounce criticism to the timid tetrad.

“You four are just hardly off the hook because it is a weekend, but disrupting my announcement and being considerably late? I have expected better from each of you respectably! Rickett, l/n, Smitten, especially you, Mr. Diggory,” Sprout frowned an ill-advised scowl, hand ushered forward to gesture you into the crowd of Hufflepuffs. You had to purse your lips together and bite your tongue so hard to refrain from splitting into an uncontrollable and unironic fit of laughter at Professor Sprout’s clueless mispronunciation of Zacharias’ simple last name. You heard a split-second chortle from the crowd and wavered, knowing exactly what it was. You envisioned Elle as clear as day, hunched over with her hand over her mouth and fighting twice as hard as you were to control her own laughter. You hid behind Cedric to assure Sprout did not catch sight of your struggle to silence the smile on your lips, trying to also keep from earning yourself more unfavorable attention. You couldn’t see Zacharias’ embarrassment, but felt his elbow dig into your side to hush your muted outburst. It was not even that funny, but it was that much more hilarious because Zacharias was a bloody git. You had been playing friendly towards him for four years, but he never played back and still seemed to loathe you-- so yes, Professor Sprout getting the last name of a child of her own House wrong was quite humorous.

Cedric inched closer to Anthony to drive a subtle foot backwards between you, nodding agreeably towards Sprout with his opposite hand twisted behind him to drive you into the crowd before you could make a scene. “Yes, ma’am. Terribly sorry,” Cedric apologized on behalf of all of you, filing you each deep into the center of the Hufflepuff students as quickly as possible. 

“You will have to be caught up by a fellow housemate of yours because your activities were obviously much more important than tending to your house chores with your peers,” Sprout scorned disfavorably. A smaller hand wrapped around your wrist, Sprout realizing who it was before you did, her sigh suggested, “Miss Tonks.”

Elle answered immediately, raising both of your hands in the air, “on it, Professor Sprout!” Elle dragged you close to her side as the crowd began to disperse and clear the furniture against the walls to create a larger space in the center of the room, much as it had been just last night for the inconspicuous festivities. Elle searched your frame with stressed dismay, squeezing your wrist as she silently scowled as well, “do I even need to ask where you wandered off to last night? Bit of a shock to find George left on his own in our Common Room!”

Your gut flipped at the memory, just another guilty dagger dragged into your gut involving George. You noticed Elle’s rich royal blue locks were spiraled in braids to enhance the vexed violet shade they had become. Like elders complaining about kids giving them gray hairs from worrying, you were definitely giving her magenta migraines. Some friend you were. You tried to force it out of your head rather quickly, apologizing just as quickly as you “I’ll tell you everything later—”

“Please, no one cares about her dramatics right now—” Zacharias interrupted from behind Cedric, only daring to deepen the dark strands into a resented red rather than an anxious amethyst. You set your hands upon Elle’s shoulders, trying to pivot between the tension Zacharias toyed with Elle.

“Smitten, I swear--“ Elle started to threaten him, earning a half-smile you couldn’t help. You wondered if this new nickname for him was a keeper, you might as well have called him a Moody Mitten. You were saved by Cedric who took Zacharias a step back and shot a finger towards Elle. 

“Elle, no swearing!” Cedric wiggled the finger to try tranquility between the two, once again directing the group back to Elle. “What did we miss?”

Elle hummed a tune of remembrance, realizing she’d forgotten about her Sprout-suggested duty to bring you all up to speed with the assemblement you were tardy to. “Sprout has just announced a ball that will be held on Christmas Eve with our visiting guests-- the Yule Ball!” Elle exclaimed happily, wrapping her arm through your own with giddy glee. You glanced over your shoulder to Cedric, who was grinning at the floor while shaking his head. You had both listened to her four years of continuous complaints circling around not having a formal event at Hogwarts, she was finally getting what she wished for. 

“A dance?” Zacharias asked, sneer scrunched on his face, as if sicken by the idea. You grabbed her hand before she could swat him, returning to tie it around your own with a peaceful pat.

Elle still leaned around your frame to answer him with an insult. “No, dingus, a classy ball with gowns and suits— Anyways! All houses are responsible for the presentation of classical ballroom dancing as a representation of Hogwarts’ exceptional ‘noble elegance’. We are about to start learning the correct steps for the Northern Waltz.” 

Why did that sound familiar to you? You raked your brain for clues as to why it was not the first time you’d heard the dance mentioned, just as Zacharias questioned her blatantly again, “the what?” 

Your lips were moving while you were still trying to distinguish it in your head, “I believe it’s a style adaptation to the original Waltz from our neighbors to the North. It involves much more of a circular rendition, in addition to a few step sequence moderations, and is most notably exquisite due to the partner exchanges on cue, which keeps the floor in perfect cycles— What?” you silenced, more than just your small group of friends now staring at you as if you were speaking another language. Even Elle was pleasantly surprised, only making you sink into her shoulder with a silk scarlet in your cheeks. “I spend too much time with Neville Longbottom,” you sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead. You knew exactly where the words had come from, but you were surprised you truly remembered them since you were sure you had just spaced out when Neville was explaining it.

“What are you now? A bloody ballroom dance enthusiast—” Zacharias mocked with a crude snicker, requiring you to tighten your hold on Elle as she defensively plotted a protective pounce on the stupid boy. 

Zacharias was saved by Sprout snapping her fingers to acquire the attention, in reality, just from your group, which was still muttering when she asked, “are we done with the chatter?” You all silenced and turned to face her while her wand waved towards the record player, the needle dropping down as an orchestra chorus skipped partially through the room. “Partner up, one girl and one boy-- The music is starting!” It was a real pity you did not have time to fetch a pair of slippers from your dormitory.

“Zacharias, it is your lucky day,” Elle slipped from your grasp and clasped Zacharias on the shoulder while you took a step towards Cedric, just as instinctively as he did. Elle was quicker, she stole the hand Cedric outstretched for you and twirled Cedric into position, calling victoriously as she did, “I’m stealing Diggory! You’ve got be quicker than that now, l/n.”

You stuck your tongue out at Elle, Cedric not arguing as he shrugged back at you and you turned to see Anthony already being whisked off with Hannah. You spun around and almost cried, a full circle bringing you face-to-face with Zacharias again. “Hell,” Zacharias cursed, beating you to it by a bare breath. “Arse up, l/n, I guess I’m the unlucky bloke stuck with you first.”

You faked a smile back at him, “aren’t I just the luckiest? Always so chivalrously charming, Smitten.” You rolled your eyes at his witless commentary since you were already on your feet. You groaned and took him by his sleeve with serious regard to whether or not you actually had to be close to Zacharias. You led him into position and paused a step apart, wondering if you could slip up the steps into the dormitories without Sprout noticing. You were a second too late.

“And begin!” Professor Sprout conducted, both you and Zacharias bowing to one another before you stepped into his hand arched a slight distance from his head, the other finding the correct place upon your side as yours landed upon his shoulder. You realized just before the first step into rhythm that you were so worried about actually having to dance with Zacharias that you hadn’t planned enough about the correct footwork. Neville could inform you about critiques of dance, but you hadn’t actually learned the steps which he was referring to. You were already off, Zacharias taking the lead as you followed his steps in gentle patterns which echoed perfectly with the instrumental melody. You studied his feet, memorizing the guidance and also realizing you were dancing in just socks as Zacharias dropped your hand and placed both of his on your waist as he lifted you into a momentary jump into the air, once again on perfect cue as everyone seemed to operate in a mesmerizing synchronization. 

“Wow,” you uttered once you were back on the ground and he’d taken your hand to continue swayed steps to the tempo. Zacharias tugged your hand upwards and twirled you once, an impatiently irritated huff hummed from his chest once he brought you back.

“Oh please, don’t look so surprised, l/n,” Zacharias ridiculed, taking your comment as poorly as he could until he realized it had been adorned in genuine admiration of his dancing dexterity. Zacharias sighed again, continuing to lead you in easy steps for your benefit as he explained, “I’ve got a handful of annoying sisters.”

“I was just impressed. I didn’t know you could dance so well,” you blurted out honestly, thoroughly amused and stunned by his rather splendid skills at dancing so speciously natural. Zacharias didn’t reply and you were bordering on another laugh, discerning his distance as a sign you overstepped your normal bickering and were able to blindside the poor boy. You grinned and bowed your head prior to Sprout speaking again, “my apologies.”

“Brilliant!” Sprout’s voice sang in marveled content, directing the harmonious symmetry in further instruction, “and our girls will spin off to the boy to their left who already has a palm outstretched to draw them into a perfect twirl,” Professor Sprout moved her hands with the same fluid motion that Zacharias used to pirouette your smaller frame to his side. You were sure he couldn’t have gotten rid of you more quickly, but another hand was suddenly around yours, Sprout applauding, “nicely done, most of you!” 

“Y/n,” Anthony greeted you with a welcoming smile. You were more than relieved, even if it wasn’t Cedric. Anthony was much more of a friendly face than Zacharias. He tilted his head to assure the position of his hands and feet was correct as the music halted on a high note to allow the interchange smoothly. Zacharias apologized before the melody mended you back into step, “fair warning, I have two left feet, so please forgive me.”

“Anthony,” you smiled courteously, dismissing his caution with a gentle giggle. You should have taken the warning, Anthony nicking the corner of your sock and nearly having you both topper. He started another apology while holding you by your hips in a light jump, but you intervened, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “it’s alright! I’ve got two right feet, just keep in mind it’s steps, raise, and then the triple twirl and tuck, lastly the giveaway twirl—you’re doing great!”

“And we twirl into our next partner again!” Professor Sprout incited with a clap. You didn’t want another partner, but obliged to the song’s steps and twirled into an outstretched hand with a parting bream back to Anthony, appreciating the short dance and encouraging the unsure lad as well.

“Y/n!—” a definitely odd voice welcomed you into a surprisingly soft touch and smaller frame. “Something tells me I did this wrong,” Susan Bones sang lamently, immediately causing you to laugh as you led her ginger self into the structure of the dance’s collocated steps. 

“Suzy!” you cheered at her familiar features, eyes widened with enlivened humor. “It appears so, but perhaps we can just dance it off without Sprout noticing,” you hoped through a comedic comment. You had fortunately found somewhat of a disadvantaged blindspot with you both being rather short, the mistake was easily masked by the taller silhouettes at your sides.

“I absolutely dread dancing,” she sighed, leaning in to mutter an admission, “I think I just spun Ernie into Justin.” 

Susan joined in your splendor of shushed laughter at her remark, sure enough glancing to your side to see both Ernie and Justin just oddly staring at one another. With the sound of both of your giggles, both boys glared annoyingly back, well aware of the mistake. “It’s alright, they complement each other greatly,” you 

You shared a couple of other partners until the music faintly faded out and you gracefully curtseyed to Malcolm, the last of those you were privileged to share a socked dance with. Sprout dismissed the group, once again stressing the importance of exquisite and acceptable mannerism for the Yule Ball. Cedric cautioned you to keep the scarf on when you accidentally almost dismissed it while you and the others passed time until super by discussing the Ball. You were not trembling with excitement at the announcement, but you were pleasantly looking forward to the evening. Just about up until Elle asked Cedric who he would be asking, it was not because Cedric was already planning to invite the Ravenclaw girl he’d befriended rather closely these last few weeks, Cho, it was because you realized you had already been expecting to be asked by Draco. 

Elle’s question just reminded you who Draco Malfoy was and your mind began to drown in anxious noise numb through your limbs until Elle hauled you back into the conversation, deciding to switch to the topic of attire for that night. You excused yourself when Elle and Zacharias began bickering again, needing a soothing shower which was sure to scorch your skin, but also a change of normal clothes. You realized you didn’t have a jumper with a tall enough neckline to hide the imprints smudged at the base of your neck and held onto Cedric’s scarf.

Super was tolerable, but you noticed way too soon that Slytherin was missing the bleach-blonde bloke. You didn’t want to invade his head, anticipating that it would just pass you off as being prying and intrusive, after all, that was how you perceived Draco when he took advantage of the tether. However, his absence definitely perplexed you into a curious conundrum, not wanting but rather involuntary to the proposition he was spending his time with better company rather than attending super. You suffocated the stigma before it could do so to you, supposing it was as good as sinking into shameful sorrow. You had left things this morning rather settled this morning, could much really have changed?

Elle hadn’t realized, but you had begun to subtly pack your small tote with study-work you had managed to neglect the entire weekend, leaving the books that were already tucked inside the bag as well. You waited until Elle was asleep, after being bombarded with questions she soon realized you were not in the mood to address, and then snuck from Hufflepuff with an impulse drawn to Slytherin. You found your way into Draco’s quarters later than you would have liked that night, the halls abnormally attended with Professors. You would have thought someone died. Fortunately for you, you did not need to put up a persuasive argument with the portrait that night, embarrassed you had practically been caught, but grateful for the save of time and lack of questioning when Goyle emerged at the same moment you arrived. He didn’t say anything, even after you thanked him for holding the door so you could slip in while he did out. You thought it was “great”, another person that was aware of your… purpose there so late after hours; how many others knew?

Draco was not in the room immediately when you tucked yourself inside silently, kicking off your sippers near the door and then tossing your bag to the side, noticing the small haze of fog seeping from the bottom of the bathroom door along with the sound of water running. You didn’t hesitate once in the privacy of his room, shoving off his jumper and scarf to reveal the faint stain on your neck and the plain white tank you had tossed on after a shower. You returned his sweater to the wardrobe while resisting the urge to explore his closet; just wondering if he actually owned an item of clothing that was not black and/or a shade of green, black, or a dark grey. 

You skipped over to his bed and sunk content into the neat sheets, messing up the entire bedspread with your small frame sprawled out across the depths of the soft bed, but not minding in the least. You were snuggling yourself deeper into the center of his bed when Draco emerged from his bathroom, still toweling his damp strands with a shake of his head. He grinned the moment he saw you already adjusting comfortably into his bed, nothing but a pair of trousers on his own body. Your eyes lingered with no shame of their own as Draco wandered over to where you laid and caught your hand as you attempted to offer a wave. Instead, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss into your palm with a light chuckle escaping his brims.

“You kept me waiting long enough, little puff,” he sarcastically snarked into your hand, smirking down at your fluttering features while you embraced the cautious calmness of his comfort, rich and entitled to all of your senses and cells.

“Oh, you silly, prudent snake. You’re lucky I even came,” you joked in equal response, the warm tidal of familiar comfort creeping through your veins. A tenderness cradled in his kiss in your palm, using his grip on your hand to drag Draco into the bed on top of you. Draco hovered over you, his body consuming your own with his delightful heat, thumb brushing against the curve of your cheek on it’s path down to your throat.

“Prudent snake? You’re awful indeed, love,” Draco chuckled, dropping his head into the base of your neck and drawing a stream of gentle kisses over your skin. You couldn’t fight the smile stinging your lips or the blood rushing to your cheeks, fingers diving into his damp, platinum strands. Everything about being suspiciously inclined to his earlier whereabouts had gone out the window as soon as you laid eyes upon him, it was a manic manipulation this tether had over you.

“Only to you who rightfully deserves it, Malfoy,” you whispered in reply, his lips tracing further up your neck and along the arc of your jaw. You tilted your head to allow him more access to your exposed throat, not a moment of hesitation to present yourself utterly vulnerable at his disposal. Your digits massaged into the depths of his hair and his scoff was audible, even muffled into your neck.

“I question your house assignment daily with that tongue of yours, darling,” he finally reached your lips and teased a breath upon your bottom brim. You attempted to draw him into a kiss by leaning upwards, but his hand remained around your throat to keep you still to the bed. You rolled your eyes, lips already parted while yearning bitterly at the annoying anticipation of his kiss. 

Draco finally leaned down to lay his lips to your own, but you amused yourself with his own game. “Not to mention how easy this would be,” you replied sarcastically against his lips. Draco rolled his eyes, groaning about your commentary with a distasteful shake of his head. Were you surprised any mention of reality between them forced him to fold? Not for a blink. “Such a gentleman,” you chimed sarcastically. 

“Is the talking really necessary at all?” Draco snapped back, diving his head back into your neck as a rather difficult attempt to warranty you back into the heat. You resisted with the thinnest willpower. 

“Draco,” you sighed, hands upon his shoulders and legs upon his torso being the perfect advantage to roll him over so you could lie upon his topside. You perched your head upon his chest, poking at his cheek. “Malfoy,” you breathed again as he childishly grabbed a pillow and dropped it upon his own face as an escape from actually having to speak to you. Oh the horror. You flicked the pillow from his face, sure to slap him once with the softness before tossing it aside. “Did Professor Snape have to teach you all how to dance properly for the Ball?” you asked curiously, inviting you to continue. “Is that where you were for super? Learning to dance with Snape” 

Draco scoffed again, “Snape teaching us to Waltz for the Yule Ball? Are you under the impression he cares about us dancing at some pathetic excuse for a dansant?” he asked, his tone abundant with disgust. Draco began to knot the end strands of your hair as it draped across his chest. “Five galleons wagers he won’t even be in attendance, just as I won’t,” Draco remarked, scornfully sighing as if he was mocking an assertive timbre, “I was dealing with a ridiculous moral lesson about my attitude over super.” 

Your stomach twisted in a cruel chorus with the weight lifted from your shoulders. He was not with other company, but as always, he was up to no good. “Was it about the incident with Cedric?” you questioned firstly, bristled brows tilted curiously with the tilt of your chin as you realized what Draco had previously stated. “What do you mean you won’t be in attendance for the Yule Ball? I’m sure it’s mandatory for Fourth years—” Draco brushed off your assumption with a snicker.

“Sure,” he measled an unconvincing agreement to your query supposing he had been facing disciplinary measures because of Cedric. Draco cut you off, his hand falling to cradle your chin, “that is where you are mistaken, love, nothing is mandatory for a Malfoy.”

“Oh?” you marveled at him with mockery, laying your cheek to the bitter sharp sear of his chest. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear as it rested upon his skin, prompting you to ponder about the reality Draco was human. You’d forget at times when he was wicked, but Draco Malfoy had a heart which beat just beneath your cheek. Your temperament changed with his words, a hesitation humbled in uncertainty at his decline. You figured an opportunity like the impending Yule Ball would present him with the perfect chance to flaunt all fancily about, especially since his family wreaked of wealth. Your curiosity convoyed you to asking, “is there a reason other than your own embarrassment that you don’t want to attend?”

Draco did not skip a beat with confessing brashly, “I would not be caught dead wasting my night at a miserable dance, let alone participating in such pure rubbish displays.” You clicked your tongue at his insult, sanctioning the flushed fever that soaked into your cheek from his chest. You were almost expecting his skin to be warm from the boiling shower he’d just stepped out of, but you were not exactly accurate. Draco was familiar to the frigid numbness of a naturally cold touch, but that was never the case when he was close to you. One of the countless illustrations of events he hated most in this world solely because it was becoming worth craving.

“Of course, because Draco Malfoy has better things to do than attend the biggest ball of our Hogwarts career,” you teased, long lashes luxuriously laced over Draco’s alluring attributes. He looked ordinary too, even in the lavish of juniper silk sheets, Draco’s hair was uncombed and he with the healing wounds on his face, he just looked like a troublesome boy. 

“Precisely, love,” Draco agreed with your witty thought, hand cupped upon the opposite cheek situated properly. Draco sculpted serendipity in the sweet shade of your hues, ghastly grin virtualizing a vile vulnerability he loathed. He held your gracious gaze, stroking his thumb over the height of your cheek as he uttered, “we both do.”

Your brows knitted bemused to the peculiarity of Draco’s words, “what do you mean ‘we’?” 

Draco treated your question with delighted dexterity, as if you were a child who had just asked him why the sky was blue. He answered in a belittling blunt declaration, “I am not going and you will not be taken by another, so we have the night to ourselves and a practically empty castle.”

You discerned then that Draco had previously compelled an inane determination for you both. You snapped up into a seated position in his lap, your feet now positioned at either of his sides on the bed. Last time you checked, Draco was not your father and it was almost humorous that he believed he had any verdict in your decisions. Your lips pursed into a tight line, “I don’t seem to remember inviting you to make decisions on my behalf--”

Draco interceded with another stern snicker, “now now, don’t argue, little puff,” Draco smirked, sitting up along with you. His hands moved to cup just under your ass, keeping you from jumping off his lap so he could tempt you right back into his virtue. “Just say you agree and we may have some fun of our own,” Draco buried you closer to his chest, one of his hands guided up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. Draco tilted your head down to his own, smirk still endured through the enticement of intimacy, your lips just inches away at this point.

“Merlin, you’re practically begging,” you sighed down upon his brims, hands dropped delicately to his shoulders. He was pleading in a way intended to invite you into his ideals, while acknowledging the allure of heat hungered between your bodies.

“Of course not,” Draco denied carelessly, tilting your head backwards so that your spine now arched into him and he could admire the curves of your body. “I just know what’s best for you,” Draco stated sternly, tracing his hand from around the back of your neck to your collar and proceeding down the base betwixt your breasts and further down past your stomach. It was just his fingertips, but the simple gesture was shattering all sense. You had to bite into the inner cushion of your cheek to remind yourself to breathe. Shivers cascaded from his hand, awakening every cell that his fingertips just barely brushed through the thin material of your shirt. Draco squeezed your ass, breaking you out of his compulsion only to ridicule the ease, “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Hm,” you hummed difficulty because of a dry throat. It was like he was asking you to give it up, but he would not ask. Draco assumed you would agree without objection, it just appeared to be taking quite a bit more time than he had planned. Draco reached up to your chin, pointing it down so quickly that your hum was hummed into a moan when his lips finally seized yours. His kiss was vindictively addictive and even more elated with indulgence, your hands snaking up into his still wet strands while shifting your hips over his to deepen his kiss. Draco grinned against your lips and your sanity struck into work, rolling yourself off of his lap until your back bounced back into the bed. You were red again, hands pressed against your flushed face while trying to find words that formed a viable reasoning, “it’s solely because you—”

“No excuses,” Draco chimed triumphantly with a proud smirk on his brims, standing with a short number of steps over to his wardrobe and nearly tripping over your tote, which now spilled books onto the floor. Draco‘s brows furrowed, bending down to retrieve those which had fallen, chuckling as he glanced over to where you laid, “how many novels does one girl need, l/n?”

“As many as necessary to keep the tale alive, simple boy,” you replied, gentle laughter to yourself. You pulled yourself over onto your stomach to watch him across the room with your hands propped under your chin.

“Simple? You’re mad. Reading futile fiction novels just for enjoyment? Rather boring,” Draco teased back, the last of the bound books catching his attention. It was a small, slightly familiar as he’d remembered seeing from that day in Diagon Alley with his father. 

“Futile? I may be mad, but you’re just plain absurd, Draco. What kind of world would we live in without the occasional fairytale?” you rendered in response, gazing over at him. When he turned to face you from the wardrobe, his face was riddled in curiosity, his hands flipped the small book while his fingers flashed over the pages. He strode back to his bed and tossed it onto the sheets in front of you.

“Tell me this entire novel is not about pots and pans?” He questioned in a hilarious hint of confusion, causing your head to shake with a playful roll of your eyes, under the impression Draco was simply being sarcastic.

“Oh my, you are such a brilliant comedian, Malfoy,” you mocked, taking the book between your hands and sitting up on his bed with your legs crossed below you. You caught his gaze as he still stood before you, a blank face occupied with a furrow of his brows. “Peter Pan?” you questioned him in return, getting no knowledgeable response. “The boy who didn’t wish to grow up?” He merely shrugged his shoulders and set himself down onto the bed as well. He groaned in annoyance of your riddles, rolling his head into your lap while you reclined with your head against the headboard. “Oh, come on, it is one of my absolute favorites! Didn’t your mother ever—“ you stopped yourself immediately, realizing what you were about to say. He didn’t answer, tracing shapes over your thighs while he rested between them, head propped up onto your stomach. “Can I?” you asked for permission, running a soft brush of your fingers through the tread of his hair. He remained silent for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders carelessly again, but just once. You grinned down at him while he adjusted himself comfortably into your lap, your legs flooding to his sides while you folded the book open and began reading to him.

You read to him for hours, sharing the comfort in the tranquil peace between you both. Draco silently listened while stroking your arm and playing with your hair. He was entranced by your story and the sweet tone of the berceuse lullaby spoken by your lips, gentle and dulcet melodic temper of your voice granting his ears blissful solitude. When he finally seemed to nod off after attending to your words, it only took another few moments before you did as well. You had taken another moment right before the heaviness of your eyelids gave in, purely to focus on the sound state of Draco’s slumber while he was cradled against you. He was always so innocent when he was asleep. You moved as motionless as possible to not disturb Draco, just needing enough reach to find the lantern on his nightstand and dull you both into the caress of darkness.

You weren’t exactly sure how, but you’d managed to sink and somehow ended up wrapped to Draco’s chest while you slept. You were tucked tightly in his arms, his head resting in the pit of your neck. You didn’t sleep with him that night, you both just relaxed in the comfort of one another’s solemn embrace, and it was a strange serenity.

It brought you back to Ginny’s question earlier that day… what was it you felt for Draco Malfoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHMYGOSH writing that Peter Pan snipet makes me so happy, I obviously loved Peter Pan growing up and my mom did read to me almost every night, I only wanted Peter Pan. What about you? Lets get close and personal, what are some of your favorite childhood stories our poor Malfoy has probably never heard? 
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I know there was possibly two cliff-hangers, the one is just barely mentioned and I totally just didn't give you the end of the talk with Ginny. AH, what do you say to a curious cat? Let me know what you have thought, what you do think, what you feel, anything you wish! Remember to leave kudos and such, have a great day! 
> 
> (also if you would like to follow along, I have a writing account on Insta with the same user with updates and my own struggles during writing)


	18. Snowy Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are struggling to comprehend how fleeting tranquility is, almost as if harmony with Malfoy was an Hourglass always on the last grain of sand. Lucky for you, a distraction is just a snowflake away. Of course, it is only following trouble made forth by him truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen chapters! I am so grateful to absolutely all of you for spending your time here! It is absolutely unbelievable just to have people taking the time to read. I know I write the same thing in these little notes like every time, but I'm just really happy to have you. There are more than hundreds of stories out there and you reading mine just sends me out of this world. As always, I love you and really hope to hear what you think of this newest chapter!! 
> 
> QUICK NOTE just in case anyone was wondering, I really do try and post new updates every week, but I tend to get carried away in writing. For example, this chapter is over 16,000 words, someone needs to find me a hobby because I have way too much time on my hands LOL. Updates and more @ flameomango on IG or Wattpad. Love you, gorgeous. Drink water.

You stirred soundly in your sleep after feeling a faint tug on the thin twine thread around your neck. After a frozen moment scarce of a secondary disturbance, your consciousness almost coaxed you back into a soothing, somnolent slumber, and then the bed beneath you shifted in a startling symphony with the grasp on your necklace. You coughed to clear the fuddled and sleepy daze from your throat, struggling to blink your laden, lulled eyes open as a yawn stifled through your arms stretching out from under you. You couldn’t see straight, but the contours of his clouded figure appeared to be sitting up beside you.

“Draco?” you questioned, the fuzzy fog of his shapes beginning to transparently transcend through the blurry darkness of your eyes. The room was a shadow of that evening, not even the windows relinquishing a spec of sunlight as the horizon remained abundantly adorned in a black blanket lavished with the embellishment of tiny garland stars twinkling down onto the completely still castle. Draco didn’t answer your question, but the hold persisted a pulling pressure on the back of your neck. “What is it?” you asked him, obscure to the oscitant glare he deemed down upon the tiny object clenched in his palm.

Draco’s tone was not tiresome, but tensed with a truculent temper when he spoke at last. “This is his, is it not?” he badgered in an echo of something you almost gauged to be disgust. Your brain exempted itself for a bit, still weary of the sleep you were rather rudely roused to by Draco pulling on your necklace. The necklace. Awareness inclined as you reached over to the lantern and beckoned a dim light back into the room to illuminate the rigid revulsion of Draco’s features. You wondered how long he’d been awake, or what in the heavens had figured waking you with such an unpleasant gesture and an insolent, accusatory tone. You rubbed the back of your knuckles over your eyes to void the muddled mist, rising onto your palms and into the strain of the narrow necklace trim.

“It is a necklace, Draco,” you clarified, attempting to slip it free from his fingers just as he curled his digits around the delicate butterfly and brought it to his chest, dragging you up along with it. His glare was now reflected in the dim hue of the lantern, warm and saturated tints dancing off his stiff austere. You were close to him again, not only bathing in the hot breath he breezed upon your cheeks, but also descending into the dark disdain painted in the stone shades of his eyes. 

“Brilliant way of avoiding the question, l/n,” he taunted in the same sneering scorn. Draco’s eyes flared down to your lips, cranium dipping into a tilt that solicited a weak wave of your spine. He was being daft and dim, but you were oh so greedy in sucking up every breath he breathed onto your lips. Bloody crook. 

“It was a gift,” you admitted again. Draco didn’t budge and your eyes hardened, innately noting the bitter nuisance he refused to relinquish. You almost laughed in his face, “you can’t honestly be upset with me over a necklace? Do you know how ridiculous that is or must I explain it for you?

Draco was not appreciative of what he expected was a crude attempt at comedic commentary, despite taut in a sick smirk swirling upon his brims. He thought he figured it out, torment twisted in the snide snicker as he retorted, “you wear it for him, don't you?”

“Draco,” you scoffed at the same second, knowing nothing good was going to come from the distort drawn in his features. You sat up straight, leaning onto a single palm so that you could push Draco onto his rear while freeing the silver butterfly from between his fingers. Draco had not anticipated the drive that knocked him off his balance. You could only have been surprised about his silly accusation because it was direly different to the delightful dream last night appeared to be. You adjusted the necklace with your fingers delicately resting over the silver symbol, “I wear it because I think it’s beautiful, not because I want to represent who gifted it to me.”

Draco followed your posture, reaching out to cup his hand just over the rim of your cheek. You nearly leaned into the calloused coldness of his palm, even more so delusionally distracted by Draco leaning in to press his lips to the exposed skin of your collar and let your hand run from your cheek down over your neck and finally to cover your own hand on the necklace. You were almost mad to believe for a moment he’d just about come to his senses, his lips moved against your skin to whisper an order, “take it off.”

You flinched out of his touch, shoving his hand away from your necklace as you jumped from the rim of the bed. You folded your arms across your chest, frowning down at where Draco still sat, “Draco, you’re acting like a child and you know exactly how unfair you’re being!” 

“Y/n--” Draco tried to protest, inching to the rim of the bed with his hands now greedily grasped upon your hips. You wrestled to pull his hands free from your frame, but he kept you locked firm in his hold, nails digging into the sides of your skirt. You reached a hand down to his lips the moment your name started to form on his tongue, shushing him before he could begin another halfwitted excuse.

“No,” you pronounced in a soft sternness. “You may believe you can twist anything you disagree with to guarantee things go your way, but you forget that I do not belong to you, Malfoy! Nor am I just another thing for you to try to change--” your hands covered his own even after he drew you near with an inciting squeeze on your sides. Draco’s chuckle made your lips purse into a thin line, growing more than just annoyed with him at this point. 

“Now you're exaggerating, love,” Draco retorted, intolerably, refusing to release his grip on your outer thighs. “This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with that ghastly weasel toy of yours. Take it off or I will,” Draco repeated with a sour menacing tone forming in his throat. You still wanted to pretend he was joking, that this was some cruel, comedic ploy called for by his own jealousy, but his voice became rivaled with an inexcusably tart temper.

You challenged him with a lifted brow, “are you threatening me now, Malfoy?” Your question begged the corner of his brims to tilt upward and you realized there was an easier way of freeing yourself from his ridiculous line of interrogation over a meager necklace. You succumbed to wrestling with him and just decided to bring yourself down onto his lap, one leg after the other. Draco began to believe his demands were being obeyed, his palms rounding to rest around your ass while his contempt smirk ascended higher. Even in the midst of the argument anointed, Draco was not at all troubled enough to resist the tightness in his trousers revived restlessly by your rear. You cupped your hand to his cheek and he practically launched up into your touch, but was stopped by your palm slapping playfully onto his cheek, obviously interrupting whatever fantasy he had already assumed to play out. You laughed, throwing him down onto the bed and crawling off his lap, “quit being stupid. It is just a piece of jewelry, it does not matter who it is from, I wear it because I like it, no other reason.”

Draco huffed, jaw tensing irritably. He was just annoyed about being spurned by teasing as you were for being absurdly accused. Draco stretched his hands out behind his head, watching as you retrieved the small book from the nightstand and began to gather the remainder of your belongings. He sat up, catching you before you could head for the door and tossing you just as fast down onto the bed. A squeak slipped from your lips when you landed, but was equally interrupted by Draco hoovering right over you with his hands locked around your wrists to pin you to the sheets. He was not sure where exactly it came from, if not convicted through the resentful envy, but Draco blurted out, “are you fucking him?” 

You figured this was just a snippet of a sick dream your consciousness had welcomed, but the silence that suffocated you in the silky sheets was crushing. It was odd how drastically quick the world could topple back into indecipherably cloudy chaos. You just glared up at him, no longer shoving or kicking, just blinking up at him with a blank stare full of weary doubt of the words he just dared to utter under such bold assumption. If the humor inside you prevailed beyond the hectic haze of hurtful disregard Draco provoked, you could have laughed in his face watching the regret repent the depths of his eyes which drowned you in distained disarray. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised or scorched by his words, you were supposed to anticipate this. Draco’s brims parted, words ready to form on his lips when you captured a final sigh, “bastard,” you breathed. You wanted to hit him, your fists curling while restrained above you, but failing to move. You wanted to call him every bloody name in the book, but figured you might have to have borrowed said book from someone like Elle with a way better vocabulary. You thought about spitting in his face at the speculation he had about you and George. You even failed to bring your leg up to kick him off of you. “I was never fucking him, you heartless prick. Get off of me,” you spat, struggling momentarily as Draco eased himself deeper down on top of you. It poisoned a sting so deep in your veins knowing that he couldn’t say the same for himself. While you were being dismantled by the ache in your bones which yearned so desperately for him, he was pervading the vile void of isolation hindered from being apart by answering the abyss with another person. Draco was sharing his bed with another and you were fighting to stop falling for him. 

You were repulsed by him, but the heat from feeling him so close was as impeccably intoxicating as every intimate instance you could dream about. You turned your head to avoid his stare, Draco snickering again as he declared, “you should really use this pretty mouth of yours to do what I say.” He was repeating himself now, but you merely melted into the silk surrounding you. “Either you take it off or I will incinerate it. Your choice, but you are really testing my patience to show you leniency.”

You snapped your eyes to him, almost hysterical at the irony. “I’m testing your patience? You have no doubt lost your bloody mind, Draco Malfoy! Get. Off. Me,” you took your time pronouncing each syllable sharply, maneuvering the stretch of your hands to shove him off to gain your leverage back onto your feet. Draco did not take the hint to stay down and sprung rather swiftly into a stance directly in front of you. Barely an inch breathed between you as you stood under him, not a word spoken from either of you when he reached up, not breaking your gaze for even a blink. Draco’s hands slithered up the length of your collar until they reached around the back of your neck and pulled the knotted twine loose. “Fuck you,” you cursed, watching the butterfly fall into Draco’s palm. He grinned proudly, tucking the necklace into his pocket with a hand outreached to your cheek. You slapped his hand away immediately, twirling around on your heels, “Keep that safe, I’ll be taking that back soon enough.” 

You were swearing left and right under your breath as you retrieved the last of your belongings in a quick scoop. Draco fell back onto his bed, leaning against his hands as his tongue flashed just over the top row of his teeth. You kicked on your slippers and Draco shot, “where are you running off to?”

You swung open his door, arm holding it open with a pause to address his question with an answer. “Absolutely anywhere is better than being around you right now,” you called before fleeing, slamming the door behind you. You wanted to overreact and unleash a tiny hell on him, but leaving was the next best thing. 

“I’ll see you very soon, little puff,” Draco whispered after the door finished ricocheting on it’s hinges. He smirked again, not only delighted, but abundantly pleased with the flare in your attitude. He was happy thinking there was a chance he was rubbing off on you.

You stopped in the corridor just outside his quarters, tracing a stressful hand through your hair and nipping so hard at the inside of your lip that you only noticed once tasting blood. Which was about the same time you noticed the tears pooling in the brink of your eyes. You were glad you were able to make it out into the hallway, not needing to add the shameful vulnerability of Draco seeing you cry; he already saw you as weak. You cleared your throat and started on your way back out of the castle’s dungeons, almost making it fully into the Common Room without seeing a faint glow. You slammed to a stop with wide eyes, noticing a figure at the center table, scribbling away. “Oh!” you cleared your throat to announce your presence with a small wave, catching his attention as he jumped up, shadows of the lantern welcoming a familiar face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt--” you started to explain in an apology.

“You’re alright, nothing but studying to interrupt. I can’t seem to get anything done with Crabbe snoring in our dormitory,” the shaded Slytherin dismissed your apology with a polite notion, walking around to the edge of the sofa to reach out a greeting hand. “I’m Blaise,” he introduced himself, but you laughed. Strangely, rather. 

You uttered a small laugh, but shook his hand, nonetheless, “I know, Zabini,” you took him by surprise, but continued, “we’ve had the same classes for four years and we sit together in Arithmancy.” Blaise tossed your hand aside in disbelief, laughing in surprise.

“Oh hell, l/n?” he finally figured, causing you to nod and meet his laughter with a chuckle of your own. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you in the dark and I just figured you were maybe a first-year Slytherin I haven’t had the privilege to meet yet.” 

You raised a brow at his comment, “I should be offended,” you joked. “You really think I could pass as a first-year?” Maybe Blaise had just given you your new disguise.

Blaise offered a dark shrug of his shoulders in reply. “If it makes you feel better, barely?” he tried to lighten his previous comparison, and then took a second to back-track. Blaise glanced at the only direction you could have come without being seen immediately. “Forgive me, l/n, are you lost? I could swear you just came from Malfoy’s quarters--” 

Your mind launched into action and the words came quick, “I really should be going.” You excused yourself, not giving Blaise a chance to stop you with backwards steps leading you towards the escape. “Nice running into you? I’ll see you in class,” you called a quick goodbye, hurrying up and out of Slytherin. 

You took off, tracing your fingers on the wall that would lead you up the stairs and towards the kitchen. You reached the barrels and apologized for waking the portrait that yawned while letting you in. The common room was silent, but not empty. You wondered how many people could be awake so early, seeing a small frame sitting on the floor and soaking in the moonlight that shined through one of the circle windows. It wasn’t the moonlight you noticed immediately, but the calming, lilac locks immersed in the glow. “Elle?” 

The entire silhouette bounced up, panting with a hand on her chest as she turned to see you. “Merlin!” she whisper-yelled at you, noticing her locks had richened in admiral azure. “Y/n you could have given me a bloody heart-attack! What the hell are you doing scaring the crap out of me?” she barked, stomping over and swatting your shoulder as you laughed with your hands raised upwards.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, I’m sorry,” you apologized, watching her return to the same spot right below the window. You followed a couple of steps behind, raising a brow when her legs folded and she assumed the same seated position. “What are you doing?” you asked, curiously.

She peaked at you through one open eye, “meditating.” Elle answered, watching the confusion tilt in your head before continuing with an invitation, “come sit with me.” You did just that, waiting until she scooted aside to share her gleam of the moonlight. You mimicked her actions, moving to sit in the same position as she explained, “my mother taught me about meditation and how it can help with focusing our magic. She says it helped her and father learn how to do wandless magic, but I really just enjoy meditating because it helps me feel connected to them and my magic. Care to give it a go?” Elle asked, still only gazing at you through a peeking gaze. 

“I would love to,” you replied, happily. Silence swarmed you with her comfort, it was nice to have this time to yourself, but even with knowing you were supposed to be focused on being calm and relaxed, your brain still refused to settle uneasy thoughts. You kept hearing Draco’s words, but continued to breathe and rest in the moment of meditation with Elle. You weren’t one to alleviate completely in the silence, but it was nice to try and balance your senses to magic. Time continued to pass and you softly whispered, “do you always do this so early?”

“Sh,” Elle quieted you down, shaking her head and eventually uttering, “yes I do-- we do now.” Elle made the executive decision to include you for her morning ritual you didn’t know she had until now. You were aware she was a morning person, the exact definition of one, but didn’t think she’d be up and functioning this early. At least she wasn’t yanked out of sleep by a fight, that was good news for one of you. 

You told Elle about everything once the sun peered through and the same window and the Head Girl began her wakeup rounds in the dormitory. She shared remorse over the necklace and threats towards Draco she would gladly follow through with, if you allowed. You still kept the discussion regarding the Yule Ball to yourself. You told her you already planned to steal it back since he was way out of line, both of you showering relatively quickly and changing into your uniform and school robes. She had to remind you to put on the scarf and you teased her about the loose tie insignia she wore as a way of hating the mandatory uniforms, but found a lucky ticket out of breakfast since you needed to see Snape that morning for your consequences of breaking rules after hours. Cedric offered to walk you down to Snape’s office, but you insisted you would be fine and headed down for yourself. 

When you reached Snape’s office, you could tell by the sounds emerging from just the outside of the door that he was not alone on the other side. You figured you could wait until he was finished with his current company, but a voice from the other side felt your presence first. 

“Speak of the devil herself,” the voice on the inside taunted, sending a shiver up your spine that made your fingers tense. You considered just making a run for it rather than reaching for the door, maybe you could have just pretended like you were never here, even after being revealed. You guaranteed this was solely the universe’s cynicism creating a dry joke of fluked coincidence, or possibly clever planning by a taft tosspot.“ Are you just going to listen through the door, or do you plan to use it any time soon, love?” A sly snicker echoed from Draco inside the room, booting you back into the reality that your ears were not just playing more tricks on you. You contemplated a sprint one last time, but drew the door open anyways. Sure enough, Draco was kicked back against Snape’s desk with his arms folded and that signature smirk secreted on his brims, wicked hues instantly darting over your entire frame.

“Miss l/n,” Snape greeted you in his normally cold tone, seated tall behind the desk with his quill motioned to where Malfoy reclined. “I apologize for Mr. Malfoy. Well this morning?” 

You craned your eyes straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Draco and only addressing Snape. “Very much so, thank you,” you replied, nodding your head. Draco knocked himself from the desk, taking a step towards you that you immediately stepped around to keep yourself lined with Snape.

‘You look like you’re trying to avoid the plague, little puff. Still got your panties all twisted over that foolish necklace?’ Draco voiced through your head, the humor playing fascinated lure lifting his lips higher. You didn’t respond, still fighting to keep him imprisoned from your thoughts. Draco swiveled around to face Snape again, crowing sarcastically, “why is it I don’t get a proper greeting like so, Professor?” 

Snape sighed hard, “that is all, Mr. Malfoy. You are dismissed.” Snape rose from his chair, waving his hand towards the door to disperse Draco. Draco didn’t move as fast as you hoped, wrapping your arms around yourself as Draco hauled his bag from the floor and took a couple of steps forward.

“Of course, Severus. Anything you say,” Draco answered, noticeably irritating Professor Snape by the disrespectful use of his first name. You poised your head down to your slippers when Draco halted suddenly at your side. You rolled your eyes and glared at Draco, who tempted you with a wiggled brow. “On second thought, are you sure you don’t want me to stay for her punishment, I’m sure I could help decide what is most fitting for our--” Draco’s taunting was stopped by Snape slamming a set of books onto the desktop. 

“Enough, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape silenced the cocky boy who was currently trying to stare you down. You didn’t break his defiant gaze, willing to play whatever crude challenge he was starting. Snape cut the tension, repeating sternly, “dismissed. Now.”

Draco sighed a disappointed breath down at you, washing the warmth of your cheeks. “Yes, my apologies,” Draco adjusted his collar, struggling quite visibly to keep his hands to himself as they lingered around his own tie. “See you later, y/n-- I’m going!” Snape had begun to interrupt him again when Draco finally gestured a wave towards his Professor and parted, nearly clipping your shoulder as he did if you hadn’t stepped back in time.

Professor Snape only assigned two days worth of detention, which relatively surprised you since the minimum for something like curfew breaking was normally a week. You tried to ask why he had shown you some unfathomable leniency, but he dismissed you just as fast as he did Draco after offering your repercussions. You didn’t dally taking your leave, just thanked him for his time and left to join the others before classes began. 

You regretted not having class with Elle that afternoon since you weren't nearly as fast as she when bolting quickly out of classrooms. You had been bouncing in your seat anxiously really since the class had begun while burning under Draco's gaze and failing to focus your attention on anything Professor Flitwick had been lecturing on about solely due to all your energy being strained on locking away your thoughts. It was strange in a way that made you grit your teeth because you could not only melt under Draco's stare, but feel him trying to slither his slimy self into your head. It was like he was gnawing at the walls you were trying so hard to keep up, like a pup scratching at a door, it was just as annoying as the glaring. 

You were overjoyed the moment Flitwick dismissed Charms class, forgetting to stuff your books into your tote and fumbling to carry everything as you rushed out of your desk. Thankfully, you were able to slip away before Draco realized, only dropping his gaze to rise and gather his belongings and immediately losing sight of you to the crowd of students. You managed to stuff your books away before reaching the library entrance, pausing in your steps with a smile once you picked your head up to find Cedric waving back to you, sitting familiarly beside Cho Cheng. 

You offered a polite wave back, stuffing your hand into your notes again to retrieve a small list of Snape's study materials. Cedric tried to motion you over but you flashed the list up and began to dive between the shelves to find the right potions books. You had just started whistling quietly to yourself, careful to avoid the floating books as they returned to their rightful places when one of the back tables caught your eye. 

Harry sat with his back to you, head thrown down upon the book resting open in front of him. He didn't look to be moving, which concerned you about as much when you realized he was on his own. You stuck the note back into your bag and made your way over to stand beside him, overly cautious when you realized his eyes had been closed and there was a rather tiny puddle of spittle resting below his parted lips as they squished onto the parchment. It wasn't funny, but you smiled because it was rather adorable with his long locks fluffled this way and that. You were about to leave him to his own slumber when his eyes started to dart behind his eyelids and his brows furrowed whilst asleep. He began to tense and twitch, trembling hands flinching with a groan escaped from the depths of his throat. You didn't give yourself a chance to register his sounds as rather frightened, immediately laying your hand down upon his shoulder to shake him gently. 

"Harry," you called his name, flying backwards once he'd jumped straight up in his seat, rocking the whole table when he did. His eyes were wide and you'd just noticed the small beads of sweat on his forehead, he was panting desperately with a hand on his chest. "Harry! It's alright! It was just a dream," you told him, hand returning to his shoulder to catch his attention. He stared back at you, as if blinking the dream away, breathlessly.. "Are you okay?" you asked after he'd taken a moment to catch his breath and settle himself. He nodded, swallowing hard with bracing fists clenched on the edge of the table.. You pulled the back of the neighboring chair with a brow and Harry's head bobbed once, giving you permission to join him. "Would you like to talk about it?" 

"Nothing to talk about," Harry shook his head, adjusting his tie and quickly slamming the drool-stained pages of his book closed. He hoped you didn't notice, but if he thought that was embarrassing, he should see how much Diggory could drool. Harry seemed to stumble over the words, "it was... just a dream."

You didn't even try to buy his poor excuse, watching his eyes zone out at the recollection that still seemed to be making him sweat. "Looked more like a nightmare to me," you confessed, leaning over the table to take a better look at his avoidant features. You chose to dismiss it rather than continue to pry at something he was dying to bury, changing the topic for Harry's sake. "How long have you been here?"

"Do you have the time?" he asked, scratching his head. You glanced down to your wrist, knowing there was nothing there but your ribbon. You checked, knowing damn well that you'd never once put on a watch, but humoring yourself nonetheless.

"Last class just dismissed," you informed him, a smile threatening the corner of your lips seeing the tiny smudge of dried drool in the crease of his dull, thin brims. You motioned the air beside your lip and Harry apologized, immediately wiping his sleeve over his mouth with a sigh. He admitted he hadn't been sleeping well and you thought you'd found the reason why with a glance down to his bag. The golden egg was poorly hidden, wrapped in what appeared to be a holey jumper. 

"Are you trying to figure it out, or do you just like to carry it around for good luck?" you joked with a warm chuckle. Harry grinned at your comment, glancing down at his bag and kicking the flap closed. 

"It's not been any luck, trust me," Harry admitted with a sigh. You were glad things between him and Ron had returned to normal, but he still seemed to be distressed by something more than his clue. "And Cedric?" 

You thought about it for a moment, "I can't say actually." Harry nodded, sinking into his seat when you clarified, "not because it is a secret, but because I genuinely don't know. I think he may have forgotten about deciphering it, if I'm being honest." Harry didn't seem as welcoming to this joke and you tilted your head, a friendly hand falling to his arm. "Harry, I've known Cedric since I was a childhood, he is not as bright as those brunette curls and dumb dimples may suggest."

Harry grinned politely back at your effort to comfort him by ridiculing Cedric as kindly as possible, a privilege really granted to you by your friendship. Harry sighed, "he's a better wizard than I am." 

You actually laughed at his statement, catching Harry entirely off-guard as he stared at you through a trench in his brows. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, but he's kind of supposed to be, Potter. Do me a favor, yeah? Look at it this way: Diggory's got three years on you, he was born into a wizarding family, and he's been around magic since he was born-- he's had more time to learn than you were ever given. It doesn't make him the best. Sure, he can school both of our arses any day of the week in spells and such, but that does not mean he's got this whole Tournament figured. Fleur and Viktor neither." 

Harry remanised in your words as you were simply candid with him, something he needed to get his head on right. Cedric was the same way, which was strange since they seemed so different but really were exceptionally similar in everything but the physicals. You didn't know Harry too well, but talking to him was just like talking to Cedric, relieving the burdens put there by their own thoughts. "Can I be honest with you?" Harry asked, "I haven't the slightest clue what I'm doing." 

You shrugged a shoulder, taking your hand back from his arm and playfully nudging his shoulder gently. "Seems to be working for you this far, I don't see why that would change," you replied kindly, not one for clever words, but hoping to help Harry stay confident in himself. You leaned back into the chair, clicking your tongue as you commented, "I think you're just being a bit hard on yourself, kid." 

Harry chuckled, mimicking your actions and reclining in the support of his chair with a bushy brow raised even through the thick mop of his black strands. "Kid?" he questioned your remark, blinking as if he could have been mistaken in his assumption, "are we not the same year?" 

You wacked his shoulder, forcing a joking frown as you hushed him with a darting glance around, the empty shelves, "shush, Potter, you're ruining my credibility to give motivational speeches." Harry's unimpressed but humorous laughter welcomed your own, a delightful relief floating from your shoulders. You were glad you were able to somewhat help, if not encourage him, seem to take his mind off of it until you were interrupted. 

"Oh!" Hermione paused on her heels once rounding the shelf with a distracted and quietly bickering Ron running into her backside when she stopped so suddenly. You glanced from Harry to the newcomers, a smile still warm in your cheeks when concern grew at the familiar, mischievous grin rising to Ron's lips. You couldn't tell whose hair was longer, but could barely see the caper curling deviously in Ron's eyes beneath his cooper curls. 

Harry whirled back around, head falling into his hand when he too noticed the look of approving surprise morph into shenanigans. "Hell, are we interrupting?" Ron asked, taking Hermione's sleeve with a quick motion towards the exit. "We can give you two some privacy if you wish--"

No one found his joke quite as hysterical as he did, Hermione rolling her eyes while tugging her sleeve back from Ron. "Hilarious, Ron," you announced, rising from your seat and keeping it extended for them, clarifying, "I was just filling in for the pair of you. Thanks for relieving me." 

Hermione greeted you with a polite nod which you returned while switching places with her. Ron's grin fell and he leaned into your side to groan, "damn, given him another ear to complain off, have you?" 

"Shut up, Ron," Harry crumpled a piece of parchment and tossed it at his fire-head friend, who flailed to catch it before it fell, after you'd already shoved him for his ridiculing remark. Harry sent you an apologetic glance, but you were well aware of the cheeky Weasley sibling, so you smiled back to dismiss the look. The appreciative humility returned to Harry's features, "thank you for the motivational speech, y/n. I just might have to schedule another when other things start going wrong-- again. Merlin knows it can’t be long." 

You laughed, ruffling Harry’s long locks with a parting wave, "anytime, kid-- Hermione, Ron, I'll see you all later!" you called some quick farewells which they returned, before resuming to your task of scouring the shelves for your books, persisting that you didn't need to ask for assistance because you figured they would be easy enough to find on your own. If only you could find that small slip of parchment you had stuffed back into your tote. Your head was down sorting through the clutter as you continued through the rows, a bored humming emitting from your brims as soft steps carried you deeper into the library, until a hand seized your wrist. 

An alarming gasp tried to escape your lips, but was silenced by another hand cupped around your mouth at the same time your back was pinned to the bookcase behind you. Your head neglected to gracefully react to the sudden jerk, knocking upon the spine of books you were thrown against. The momentary panic was annoyingly unraveled by a warmth that registered in the touch before you could blink, the sound of Draco shushing you while glancing around the corner to assure no one had caught the silent ruckus. You rolled your eyes, attempting to alleviate the anxiety and headache that had simultaneously wanted to wring Draco's neck for frightening you. You peeled Draco's hand from your mouth with one hand while the other struggled to prey space from his abdomen. 

"Draco, are you mad--" your voice was stolen from your throat by a gasp that slipped through your lips the moment Draco's fingers snatched upon your chin. His grasp on your jaw was stone cold, but it was the fist that curled cruelly tight around the wrist of your hand that had tried to shove him back that truly sunk your shoulders. His humor of that morning had vanished and replaced with the inviting loathe of his nearly normal vantage, but his entire expression was warped with a subtle wrath burning in the bitter blue of his eyes.

"Not in the slightest, but you are," Draco declared, gritting the words past tightly clenched pearls. His hold on your wrist twisted and his fingers frictioned a sore sting around your skin with the gesture. If you were not careful with your words, you could trigger another temper tantrum in the boy strictly rigid with anger for reasons you failed to decipher. You figured it would be best in the consideration of patrons in the library to approach him with caution, just as the words brazenly erupted from your lips faster than you could blink.

"What are you on about now?" you asked, mimicking the glare he bore down at you. You twitched your chin from his hold and used the surprise of your daring snap to free your wrist with a flip of its own. It only burned for a moment, but putting an inch between you and him was worth it. "Is it the ribbon-- No, don't tell me, I'm sure I can riddle out just what annoying accusation you have ready for me this time," you held a finger up to instruct him to stay silent while you were speaking. You were sick of his trouble and the control he believed to hold over you. A defiant wiggle arched in your brow as you studied him, "I have a Herbology book in my bag that Neville had leant me, was it that?" 

Draco's frown darkened his pale features, his fist colliding with the shelf right beside your head. You flinched, but refused to cower at his glaring daggers and unnecessary dramatics, but noticed that you were now trapped between him and the shelves again. "How about flaunting yourself to every despicable clown that has ever walked these halls? You're in a library for fuck's sake, can you just try not to throw yourself at every bloke that so breathes?" Draco spat in a violent rasp under his breath. Your fists had both balled and flared in the midst of his ghastly words, your palm darting up to enact justice for yourself, but happened to be seized by his hand again before you could slap the vile look from his stupid face. "Not so fast, feisty little puff," Draco tossed you back into the bookshelf, returning his hands to the wooden platforms at either side of your head. 

"You deserve worse than a mere slap across the bloody face, rotten wanker," you settled for shoving his chest, cursing mentally when he declined even the smallest budge. You tilted your head, desperately begging the world to keep his words from soaking into your skin. You wanted to immediately forget them, unable to comprehend what illness Draco had just endured to make him so cold so suddenly; it was like you had been forgetting this is who he was. Draco had always found strength in hatred, others, and none of this was new to you. One night? Was that all you got with him when the world seemed to stop spinning long enough to bring you peace and comfort with him. You were beginning to believe it was just a dream. You glanced back to where you had been swiped, picking the puzzle apart and widening your eyes with a scoff, "is this because of Harry? It is, isn't it? Were you spying on me?-- Draco, I was talking to him!"

"Oh please, do not even start trying to lie," Draco shot back, not buying the charming candor admission that he presumed to be deception. He had been watching, indeed. He watched it all and wanted to drag you away from the moment you had woken Harry, only after getting a chance to snap Potter’s weak, little frail-frame like a toothpick. Then again, dying to mangle that swine was a daily urge Draco clung to. Draco hissed, “you were all over that miserable mudblood fuck!"

"Draco!" you scowled, a twitch in your digits absolutely appalled by his choice of vile vocabulary. Why did your voice crack? You were anguished by the stress of breaking because of Draco’s belittling criticisms, and the tears had shaped in the silhouette skirt of your hues. "I was simply talking to Harry! He is my friend and if you dare to stand here and seriously accuse me of anything more, walk away. I won't do this with you-- I have nothing I need to prove to you," you declared, darting firm daggers back at him. You waited patiently for Draco's verdict after offering him a chance, searching the heinous hesitation harshly held in his orbs. Draco's hands had just begun to loosen, still standing like a ceramic statue trapping you to the shelf. He had not walked away, but he still confronted you with the challenge anchored in abhorrent anger. Your malice muted with your own sovereignty, draining in a deep breath to soothe your own spirits. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back onto the bookshelf, taking a moment to bask in the bemused perplexity of Draco’s stare before placing your palm poisely on his chest. The words had just rose onto your brims, "I don't think I can--"

"Y/n?" a voice startled both of you, but to your overwhelming shock, Draco did not launch to the opposite side of the library out of shame; you had been discovered. You quickly bowed your head to wipe the tears from your eyes and then peek your head around the side of his shoulder to see Zacharias and Anthony emerging from the back of the library. They both stared at you and Malfoy, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, surpassing any statement of confusion.

"Are you alright?" Anthony asked, a concerned furrow in his brow warranting a step forward when he noticed Draco's hands restraining you to your current spot. Draco didn't shift, why wasn't he moving? You cleared your throat, forcing a reassuring smile in their direction.

"I'm fine, Zacharias, Anthony," you lied, hand slipping sneakily into the rows of books at your backside. You blindly pulled one from its place and forced it to Draco's chest. You were not kind about the gesture either, assuring the book collided hard with his chest with a last glare up at him, "here is that book you were looking for. Malfoy."

"Y/n--" Draco had just begun to argue, the tiniest clue of remorse rang in his voice. You glanced down to his hand, which remained in your way, clearing your throat over the admission of your name on his tongue.

"You're welcome," you answered loud over his own voice, your eyes glimpsing back at him with a gesture down at his arm. "We're done here. Excuse me," you tucked yourself under his arm when he refused to move out of your way, yanking both of the boys away by their sleeves as they exchanged frowning faces with Draco. You followed them out of the library, raising a brow when you noticed Cedric’s seat was now empty of him and Cho, but not vocalizing the notion until you were out in the corridor. 

“Y/n, are you sure you’re alright--?” Anthony asked, a crease in his brows outlining the concern considered in the reflection of your uneasy, faded features, but cut off in the midst of his worry by Zacharias’ swearing from your opposite side.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” Zacharias questioned, his eyes still bolting between you and the library as you began your walk back to Hufflepuff. Your arms crossed around your body with a sigh eluded under your breath, not looking over to Zacharias or Anthony as you continued.

“It was Malfoy being Malfoy, Smitten-- just helping him find a book,” the lie murmured weakly from your lips, but you did not care enough to worry about what they believed. You yearned to just sink into a bed and take a nice nap right about now, but the strange thirst for the comfort of silky sheets that smelled of blackwood and mints as well as the faint fray of Draco’s rich, almost royal cologne. You took a glance back at the boys, “what were you guys doing in the library anyhow?” 

“Well since you asked,” Anthony started, a tone of humor harbored in his voice. 

Zacharias snapped his head in Anthony’s direction, wiggling a warning finger in his direction, “not another word, Rickett--”

Anthony couldn’t help himself. He caught a step or two up to you in order to confess in a hushed tone with his arm tossed over your shoulder. Anthony was chuckling as he answered, “I was rescuing Zacharias from nearly pissing his pants while trying to ask Suzy-Q to the Ball--!”

“Anthony!” Zacharias scowled his friend, punching his shoulder. Your own laughter fused with Anthony’s as he winced and began to rub his arm, still grinning happily. He tried to apologize for divulging how he’d found Zacharias in the library, but you patted Smith’s shoulder knowing Susan Bones was surely out of his league. 

“Oh no, sorry to hear, Zacharias,” you apologized rather mockingly, squeezing Smith’s arm just as he yanked it away. You nudged Anthony, ridiculing happily, “I’m sure you’ll find some poor princess to take. She may have to be blind, though--” Anthony blurted out into laughter, which was scorned by Zacharias who glared down at you. Anthony stretched a hand up for a high-five but Zacharias’ daring glower had him slowly lowering his hand. 

Zacharias turned back to you, fake grin on his brims when he revealed, “I will not hesitate to kick you because you’re a girl, l/n.”

Anthony was ready to argue with his statement, but your brows danced in amusement, fingers fluttering before Zacharias. “Oh how I quiver with fear, Smitten!” you exclaimed, already taking off to beat them to Hufflepuff. 

“Yeah you better run, you shrewd little witch!” Zacharias called after you, ignoring Anthony’s apologetic chortles as he followed you just a couple moments after. Thankfully, Justin had just opened the passage so the barrels were still closing when you squashed yourself through right before the door closed. You hadn’t even taken a gander around the room, feet leading you in the direction of the dormitories when a hand caught yours and you were immediately being hauled down to the carpet.

“Y/n! Oh my, there you are! We were convinced we lost you after class, where did you wander off to?” Elle greeted you, cheerfully. You smiled politely back, thankful her question was rhetorical when her own excitement had her carrying on without giving you a chance to answer. “We were just discussing the Ball again! I can't wait, it’s going to be magical! Oh! Since you’re here, you can help better than Ced,” Elle joked, earning a look of offense from Cedric, who proceeded to shoot his tongue out at her. Elle returned the immature gesture and you laughed, rocking into her shoulder to get her to continue. “I’m trying to decide who will be better for my height, what do you think? I’m not picky as long as they’re absolutely perfect,” Elle explained, leaning into your side to take a better, brief scan around the room. 

You traded a glance with Cedric, biting into the inner cushion of your cheek to hold the giggle back. “No,” you agreed, a bright beam playfully poised on your lips. Cedric bowed his head, unable to keep a balanced composure with your teasing, “not picky at all.” Elle rolled her eyes once she noticed you were both overcome in constraining laughter.

“And you, Ced? Have you gone and asked that adorable Miss Cho Cheng yet?” Elle asked, tossing her quill at where Cedric sat, back leaned against the wall while his legs kicked over one another on the carpet. Cedric’s eyes found the carpet and his legs shifted over one another.

“No,” he admitted, still focused on the rug’s thread. You weren’t sure whether or not it was just you, but the uneasy tension tore discreetly through the space between you and Cedric had an uncalled for jitter jumble in your stomach. Cedric glanced at you through furry brows, “not yet.”

Elle’s tongue clicked in a balked baffle, shoulders giving out with a disappointed pout. “Come on, she’s obviously going to say yes, you two are—“ Elle began to voice, only to be intruded on by Zacharias calling from behind Cedric as he flapped down to take a seat beside him.

“Annoying they are,” Zacharias finished her assertion with a loud clap upon Cedric’s shoulder. Cedric exchanged a greeting hand with the newcomer who invaded the circle with a small glare momentarily casted towards you. You just giggled under your breath and shrugged a shoulder with Elle, consequently agreeing with Zacharias. Zacharias then turned to Elle, “hey, tootsie-twat Tonks—“

“Excuse me?” Elle scoffed with narrow eyes, bearing daring daggers that dug into Zacharias. You and Cedric both went wide-eyed at the teasing Zacharias had clearly not planned for. You tried to cautiously reach a hand to hers when the tresses of tender teal mended with mulberry magenta.

“Oh, calm down,” Zacharias simply stated, as if his advice would immediately calm the fusing flare of Elle’s emotions. You talked yourself up quickly, knowing you could lunge for her from this angle if she rightfully so tried to jump on Zacharias. Instead, Zacharias insisted, “go to the dance with me.”

It was quiet between you all for some time, confusion clouded a puzzled hush glimpsing from Elle to Zacharias for any signs. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, Zach—“ Cedric started to explicate, a comforting pat to his shoulder that stopped when Cedric flinched at Elle flashing her quill at him.

“Stand up,” Elle instructed, gesturing with the quill darted towards him. Zacharias sighed and rose to his feet in obligation of her demand.

“Come on now, are you really going to make me ask—” Zacharias sighed, adjusting his tie as he stood tall. Elle followed him and you worried that she was about ready to have a go at him, bartering a warning wave to Cedric. If she was about to charge him, you were about to dive at Elle’s ankle to trip her and hopefully prevent Zacharias from getting his face clawed at. You both watched them closely as Elle dragged her quill through the air from his head to toe and then stood at his backside to quickly compare their heights.

“Fine,” Elle compromised with a warm shrug, returning to her seat beside you without any further explanation. You sat, blinking at the spiral of mazed doubt over what had just happened. Elle blinked back at you, but shrugged her shoulders plainly, “a please would have been nice, but you’ll do, so I accept. I will start on a list of acceptable colors that compliment me best.”

“Thank you?” Zacharias replied, also complexed by his own confusion. Elle returned to sketching something into her open journal while the three of you traded blank stares towards one another. 

You leaned towards Cedric, “what the hell just happened, Diggs?” Cedric tilted his head, contemplating an answer that made logical sense. Elle and Zacharias did not hate one another, but they were rather far from friendly and it was a miracle if you could get through one school year without Elle tackling him down a set of stairs. 

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll cross date off the bottom of her list,” Cedric leaned over and stole the quill from Elle to scribble on the parchment you realized was actually an agenda of preparations for the Yule Ball. 

You looked over Elle with your head perched on her shoulder, sighing out a sound of laughter, “of course she has a dozen other things above actually finding a date.”

Elle looked at you like you had just spoken nonsense, scouting a small snicker as she admitted, “there is quite obviously much more I can prioritize over a stupid date to the ball.”

Zacharias crowned his head to the side, jaw parted in a snubbed statue. “I beg your—“

“No. You didn’t ask me nicely so I get to call you whatever I wish,” Elle declared, shoving her quill back in his direction. Zacharias threw his hands up in an obliging silence. You and Cedric laughed at his agreeing, Elle rolled her eyes and returned to her open pages of parchment. Her quill traveled in a downward motion over the list, reading aloud, “yours truly? Check. Zacharias? Check. Cedric? Eh on a ‘check’ for now. Y/n?”

Your head picked up at the sound of your name and you pulled from Elle’s side, turning to pick at the laces of your slippers. You’d forgotten to talk to her about it and now the attention of the group was trained on you. “Hm?” you sung innocently through hesitant lips, still anxiously twiddling with your shoes rather than looking up to address her directly.

“And who should I expect to pencil in for your date to the Yule ball, lovely?” Elle chorused, not noticing your dithering delay as she continued to doodle. Zacharias and Cedric noticed, but just furrowed their brows at your reaction.

“Oh,” you paused, moving to pluck nervously at your thumbs. Elle finally glanced over, uncertain of your havering. She wondered if it was still too early, but was not expecting you to have kept anything from her. You could have just excused yourself or suddenly recalled homework you needed to get on in order to escape the discomfort, but instead you started to regretfully confess, “I won’t be going—”

“You won’t be going where?” Elle questioned, searching a scrutinizing tempered survey over your features. She figured she had to have been missing something or possibly misheard while scribbling and just blanked out on the answer. 

You shifted, still sinking away from the focus, revealing just under your breath but rather loud enough for her to hear, “to the Ball,” you clarified. Zacharias blinked and even went as far as to scoot backwards, withdrawing himself from the current discussion at the first signs of severity swirled into Elle’s locks. You glanced up, begging yourself to keep a straight composure as the lie proceeded your brims, “I’m just going to head home early for the Holiday—”

“You most certainly will be going,” Elle announced strictly, outrage appalling the serene curves of her features. Your stomach twisted at her retorting declare, brushing a timid hand through your own hair while trying to find the right words.

“Elle--” you tried to formulate the argument but barely uttered the syllables of her name when she slammed her notebook together suddenly.

“No,” Elle barked, throwing her hands out in front of her. You realized you were in trouble when you couldn’t decipher whether it was anger or annoyance that took place on her posture. She was convinced you were mad or just confused, delicate brows drowned over her raging, soft eyes. “What do you mean you’re not going? That’s absolutely absurd! Of course you’re going,” Elle protested, snapping her head to Cedric and Zacharias, making you all flinch in place. “Is she ill?”

Zacharias lurched forward after a kick from Elle and sent the back of his palm colliding with your forehead. You glared at him, rolling your eyes when Zacharias beckoned a shrugging nod, “feels fine to me.”

You huffed at his gesture, “shove off, Zacharias!” You tossed his hand from your forehead, signaling a token of needed assistance to Cedric. Cedric turned his head away, whistling in a fake normality. You quickly drew your legs uncrossed and tapped his knee, “can I get some help, Ced?”

“Won’t be from me,” Cedric sighed back, waving a hand towards the overheating girl at your side. “I frankly agree with Elle, and I too say this is rather suspicious, even for you-- is there a reason why you don’t want to go?” Cedric questioned, tapping his fingers against his chin. 

“Yeah!” Elle exclaimed, bringing her fingers to intertwine at her chest with a dazed daydream devised behind bright, exuberant blues. “You love gowns almost as much as I do! A grand, tasteful night of charm and luxury is everything we’ve been dying for since first year! Why the sudden change?” Elle riddled, trying to dissect the reasoning with a disappointed frown casted in your direction.

“Elle, it’s just a ball. We have been to parties,” you reached for her hand in a blatant attempt to get her to drop the subject altogether. You wished to get ahead of the discussion before realization struck in any of them. You wouldn’t have been surprised if Zacharias had something to say after he’d just a few moments ago found you in the library with a repulsive “friend” of yours. 

“No, we’ve been to sad excuses for parties!” Elle corrected you, brushing off your hand with a rather rude whip of her fingers. She was still studying you like an exam she was unprepared for, but was learning to read. 

“Didn’t she just host y/n’s birthday party?” Zacharias asked Cedric in an assumptious whisper.

Cedric nodded, but Elle answered, “irrelevant. That party was great, but it still is nothing like the Yule Ball— but the Ball won’t be half as wonderful without you! If you don’t go, I don’t want to go and I would quite fancy attending a nice Ball at least once at Hogwarts!” Elle groaned, finally throwing herself down onto the carpet in an aggravated whine. You wanted to laugh at her exaggerated dramatics, but hated being the cause of her dilemma. It was complicated and a part of you wanted to be honest with her, but Cedric quickly stole that chance from you.

“Merlin,” Cedric sneered, sitting up straight to squint a dissent scowl to examine your complexion closer. Your stomach flipped and your shoulders involuntarily cowered as you mentally begged for his silence, which was of course, not likely. The pieces in the puzzled perplexion muscled in Diggory’s face were slowly solving behind a look that was morphing from collected to antagonized. He couldn’t have possibly realized anything, right? You thought you could reach for his collar and haul him away to discuss it privately, but before you could even utter a breath, Cedric scorned a stern scoff, “you haven’t thought of a valid excuse yet?”

“What?” Elle asked from the floor, revived in less than a second’s notice of Cedric’s comment, jolting in a swift jump back up onto her rear.

“Come on, Elle,” Cedric encouraged Elle to fathom the truth faster, even with your objective plea burning into his peripheral. Your pulse had quickened with a strain tugged in your chest. Elle was just flickering her eyes from Cedric to you for any answer, rewarded by clues immediately given by Cedric. “There is not a chance in blimey hell she made that decision on her own.”

“Cedric, you promised--” you breathed, remorseful guilt lamented in a soft rub of your fingertips on your temples. Cedric didn’t acknowledge your dismay, but you strayed any consideration as his expression quickly fused with regret, only once watching the tints of graveled wisps of Elle’s boysenberry contort into a livid fume of fire and garnet. 

“You’re fucking joking,” Elle spat, tiny fists balling at her sides as her dangerous daggers glinted into you. You could swear she was staring down to the core of your soul, lucky enough it was always so easy to interpret her emotions. Right now, you were at the center of her rage rancored in the ruby embers flared in fiery strands atop features that were so delicate and kind. “Tell me Malfoy has not told you not to go!” Elle cursed loudly, disrupting the entire Common Room. A silence peaked with heads turned unfavorably in the direction of Elle’s ruckus, but Elle failed to give a slightest concern.

“Elle, please don’t--” you tried to calm her down again, reaching for her hand only to be met by an equal swat of your hands. Cedric’s eyes widened, well aware of the disturbance that had attracted the attention of eavesdroppers scattered here and there among the shared room. Cedric stared back when he caught a prying glance, immediately shutting down any attempt to build drama.

“Why would Draco--” Zacharias started to question, only to be silenced by Elle ramming a finger right back at his frame.

“Shut up, Smith!” Elle warned. Zacharias obliged immediately, not daring another murmur. Sadly, Zacharias was just a momentary outlet for her focus, meaning she instantly seemed to snap back to you, “are you bloody serious?” 

You threw your head down into your hands with a sigh, digging your fingertips into your temples. If you had just been honest with her as soon as you’d spoken with Draco, you could have prevented all of this. Now, you didn’t know how to resolve any of this, which was blowing way out of control before you could stop it. “It’s not like that…” you paused, glancing through your open fingers to see where Zacharias had faced the carpet rather than act involved in the conversation. You dropped your hands to your lap, no longer caring a dime who was listening or what exactly they would know. The words started to make themselves up the second your lips were parted, “Draco doesn’t want to go, so--”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to manipulate--” Elle spelled out in a condescending choir that sparked a tense, involuntary twitch in your fingers. You only noticed the wary impulse instinctively retorted after you had already cut her off. 

“He’s not doing anything!” you yelled back, your jaw locking with a coil of your fists. Cedric said your name, canting himself closer to your side to whisper your name. He was trying to prompt you to quiet down, but your abrupt reaction simmered regardless of the attention. “I decided I didn’t want to go,” you attempted to lie transparently, but should have known better. If it wasn’t Elle that saw straight through your deception, it sure as hell was Cedric, who stifled a chuckle at your comment.

“That’s shit and you know it,” Elle barked back, laughing sarcastically. Even Cedric could attest that Elle’s tittering was cruel and unnecessary, but it felt twice as worse knowing your first riposte was in defense of Draco, even after he’d twisted your sanity to a breaking brink. You accented a strained trouble while lugging your knees to your chest and dropping your head to take a breath. The group sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, and then Elle emitted a loud sigh and a mauve muse of tranquility tussled through her locks. Elle slung herself to your side, a calmness content in her voice when she expressed easily, “as your best friends, we know you want to go, so go you shall! A git like Malfoy can take it up with Diggory again if he has a problem. I don’t care if I have to be your date!”

You grinned back at her cheerful declaration, accepted with a slight hesitation by Cedric, who eventually nodded in partial agreement. Zacharias furrowed his brows, “hey! What about me--” 

Elle clicked her tongue with an irritated scorn, staring angrily back at him. “What the hell are you still doing here, Zacharias? Is it not obvious that none of this involves you?” Elle questioned blatantly, blinking her eyes at him while you and Cedric tried to contain laughter. Zacharias rolled his eyes, probably regretting extending the invitation to Elle, of all people. If you had any advice, sure it was a mistake, but you wouldn’t offer any instruction. Zacharias could tolerate it, barely. 

You set your head down onto Elle’s, relieved rue breezed through your lips. “Oh Elle, you’re being--” you hadn’t decided on which word to describe her quick swivel of emotion, but Elle was slightly quicker to answer with a pleased exhale.

“A good friend,” Elle rejoined, delight decorated proudly upon her lips. You nudged her noggin with your own and she finally tilted her head to meet your gaze. A seriousness snuck it’s way onto her features, “I’m right, I know I am. You do wish to go and there is not a reason, especially not one because of a boy, that should say you shouldn’t just go.” You didn’t have an argument left in you, a groan of defeated vanquish vented through a frown on your face. 

“I was going to say a brat,” you contested, elbowing her side. She was about to argue again when you added, “an accurate brat-- but still a brat, nonetheless.” A smile slinked upon plush pillows and the pearly beam reflected in the twinkle of Elle’s eyes, glad you had finally acknowledged she was right, as she figured. Cedric finally breathed an exhale he’d been holding since the subject arose and conflict started, recognizing the contented comfort restored among you. Cedric’s chuckles brought you all into a harmony of familiar felicity, exchanging jokes and laughter until a disruption near the door of the Common Room caught your attention.

“Excuse us,” another groan grieved in your throat and Cedric’s grin widened, immediately recognizing the cheerful voices of the twins and the peak of ginger heads shoving through Hufflepuff students. People were trying to question them on how they’d managed to sneak in, but both just dove through the confusion until they reached you. “There you guys are!” George exclaimed, pushing aside his brother.

“We should have known to probably check here first,” Fred added, shoving his brother right back and crouching down to Cedric’s side to trade a greeting hand gesture.

“I blame you,” George kicked his brother, causing Fred to topple over and nearly take Cedric down with him.

Fred shot back up onto his feet, glaring at his brother, “and I blame you, with your freakishly large feet.” George muttered a comment about his brother’s lack of brains when comparing their identically sized feet, but you caught the comedic smirk tug slightly at his lips. He wanted to remark about the meaning of his foot size, but contained the cheeky commentary with a wink in your direction.

“If I may, I blame both of you,” you rolled your eyes, raising a brow to their presence. “Something you need with us-- Wait, how did you two get in?” 

“Yes, actually there is something we need, thank you for asking,” Fred answered, completely ignoring the question of how they’d crept in, but not long withheld when Anthony poked his head between the twins.

“I may have taught them the tune,” Anthony confessed in an apologetic admission. He casted a brief glare back at the twins, “I’m not yet sure whether or not that was a mistake.”

“It’s probably more than a mistake-- Irrelevant, Rickett,” George divulged, immediately shouldered by Fred as a signal to shush. “We’ve got great news!” George cheered, the goofy grin on his lips growing. 

“Which is?” you asked, flickering a glance from Fred to George after a moment of silence went by. You wondered if it was supposed to be a guessing game, but George caved. It looked like his excitement overwhelmed him, a pulse in his stance beckoned in timid thrill.

“It’s snowing!” George blurted out, instantly bringing all of you, but Zacharias, onto your toes. It was a second of disbelief distraught in quick, gleeful glimpses from you, to Cedric, and then to Elle. If it was a joke, it was definitely one of their cruelest. George gestured instantly over to the window, “go on! Take a look for yourselves!” 

He didn’t need to tell any of you twice. You all trampled and tackled one another to reach the window first, of course, knocking into anyone in your way. You were sure you had just leaped over Cedric after he staggered across Elle when you finally landed, mushed in front of Cedric and beside Elle with your face flattened to the cold surface of the stained-glass window. Sure enough, gray clouds showered the trees and horizon around the castle with white snowflakes. “Snow!” you breathed, bouncing buoyantly on the tips of your toes.

“It’s never looked more glorious,” Cedric agreed, followed by Elle’s triumph.

“Absolutely wonderful!” Elle sang in an elated voice.

“Beautiful!” you gasped, the breath from all three of you, pressed to the glass beginning to fog the vision of an exceptional element.

“It doesn’t look like they’re excited at all. What a let down, Georgie,” Fred teased from behind you, smirking over his shoulder to where George had set his arm down on his brother’s shoulder.

“Guess they wouldn’t care if we raced them to it, Freddie,” George shrugged, returning the tease. The three of you spun around, the challenge tempted in a small twitch of your feet. 

“Like hell,” you dared in an expected dare towards the twins. You didn’t notice, but the smirk scorched on his lips had altered into a satisfied smile at your reaction. It was almost proud in a way that returned a flush to the freckles of his face.

“Oh!” Fred chanted, rocking on his stretched feet, another nudge knocking the doe-eyed adore from George’s daze. “We’ve got a lively one, Georgie!” 

“You look like you’ve got some run in you, l/n,” George taunted, dancing a provoked brow towards the others. “Elle? Cedric? You’re all going to let this little girl show you--”

“Little girl?” you scoffed, pulling the ribbon from your wrist free in a swift swipe. The last thing you were going to be was teased by the Weasley twins, especially not when it came to snowfall at the castle.

“Oh no,” Cedric winced, taking a cautious step from your side. “You’re so screwed now.” 

“Let’s see it then! Have at it, young Huffles,” Fred gestured, stepping simultaneously to the side with George to reveal a clear escape to the door. 

“We’ll even give you a head start out of pity--” George couldn’t finish his joke, regretting the leniency rather quickly. It was one glance between the three of you and a wave from Zacharias, who signaled he would cover for you, then you all took off.

The corridors were alive, erupting with the intertwining melody of laughter echoing off stone walls and elegant archways. None of you took the race seriously, running after one another in more of a heap of heads gleaming with gaiety while attempting to tease and trip one another. You rounded a corner with Elle on your heels, all of you nearly slipping and toppling over one another at the speed you were going. You chortled watching Fred and George collide and just barely missed colliding with a wall, but your laughter was replaced with a squeal when they both illuminated in reflections of mischief angled towards you. You couldn't kick off your feet fast enough to lose them and they caught up easily, crossing their ankles just underneath your slippers at the perfect second. You planned for it, taking both of their sleeves the moment you began to fall to take them both down with you, but your confusion peaked when the ground you landed on was softer than you had anticipated, and then made a squished sound under you. 

You glanced backwards to find Neville rubbing his head after you and the twins had toppled into him, immediately apologizing while trying to untangle the mess of knotted legs the four of you had suddenly become. "So sorry, Neville," you pardoned, glaring at the remainder of the group, which had all stopped long enough to just laugh at the commotion. Elle had grounded herself to Cedric rather than collapse in uncontrollable giggles and Cedric laughed leisurely until he realized you were glaring. Cedric then made his way around to try and help everyone back to their feet, reaching his arms just under yours to return the balance in your legs. You were barely back on your feet when you reached down to help Neville to his as well, whispering obviously, "it was all the twins--"

"We're not the clutz who fell," Fred defended in a simple explanation, extending his arm down to George to drag his twin from the ground and back to his rightful place at his side. George popped back up and nudged his brother with that same goofy grin on his lips. 

"Just the guys that made it happen," George remarked, happily. Fred nudged him back with a nod and they even high-fived over the incident they had created. You glared back at them after they cheered 

“Merlin’s beard!” Neville gasped after being plowed down by half the mob of runners racing to get out the door first. “Why are you all sprinting?” Neville dusted off his pants, a puzzled cloud shaped in the tilt of his floppy curls. 

“It’s snowing, Neville!” you caroled lightly in a buoyant bellow of eager enthusiasm. Neville didn’t even glance towards the door, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Snowing?” Neville asked, blinking at you and then the others like you were all mad. “It’s snows every year and it is about that season, so snow seems accurate right about--” 

You seized his hand before he could object and followed the chorus of cheers and clamors of elated exclaims, leading him with the others straight onto the bridge. Once outside, you could bathe in the frigid breeze that nipped at your cheeks and embraced your frame in a crisp shiver.   
“Are you sure we shouldn’t have grabbed some coats before coming out?” Neville pointed out, still being dragged along the length of the bridge. “It’s rather cold--” you hummed over his logic, releasing your hold on Neville, only after snatching both of his hands to twirl you both under the light flurry of crystalline crests. You grinned watching Neville welcome the gesture with a laugh and proceed to twirl you just as you had him until you were standing with wide arms out under the pale sky, quilted with cotton clouds. Even with goosebumps garnishing your limbs, you still felt a fond warmth melt into the blush of your cheeks. 

You didn't care how old you were, and that was something you absolutely adored in these friends of yours, who rushed you with them off the bridge and into the green meadow which had begun to blanket white over the moss shades; they didn't either. You were all expected to be so mature, but seeing snow for the first time this season had you back to the days where you could barely contain your joy, and they reacted the same. Even Neville seemed to relax while rocking on his feet in the grass, small snowflakes cradling his curls. You were just taking it all in, but your distraction came at the cost of not hearing Neville warn you before Elle plowed into you.

You both fell into the snow, caressed by the cold sinking into your clothes, but losing yourselves in laughter. She fell beside you and the next thing you knew, you were making snow angels that happened to overlap. You reached a hand up, cautious not to ruin your glorious snower-piece, your hand taken by George who helped you up with a wide grin. You were complementing the white knitted beanie atop his long locks, immediately recognizing the intricate stitches of blue shapes as the handy work of Mrs. Weasley, when out of nowhere, George was knocked down into the snow beside your angel by his own twin. 

Fred taunted to show them how it was done, pulling along Cedric to an open space. You and Elle teased the boys for priding themselves on goody-looking snow angels, that was probably where you made the critical mistake. One second you were giggling beside Elle, the next, your shoulder was covered in snow after being pelted by a grinning George. 

“George Weasley!” you squealed out his name, swishing off the excess snow from your robe. George's eyes were daring, inviting you to join his mischief with a wondrous wiggle. “You did not just hit me with a snowball--George!” you hollered aloud, interrupted by George pulling another snowball from around his backside and chucking it square towards your head. You ducked right in time.

“Something you’re going to do about it, l/n?” George snickered, baiting you through the devious gamble of odds. You were so easily lured into his ideas, one rash, reckless bid of that silly smirk and you were not about to back down. George tempted you with a teasing poke, ready to dance around you as he taunted, “come on, darling! Don’t be shy!”

Elle scampered off at the first sign of the impending fight, grabbing Neville to wheel him out of the line of fire and ducking behind a bush. You could hear Neville trying to offer her mittens while she instructed him to pack the cattery of snowballs. You glared to George, bare hands scooping up a handful of snow while he darted behind the other boys. 

You should have known better than to turn your back on Elle in the bush. Fred was the knight of the game, revealing his brother by the collar as an alliance offering. Teams had formed before any of you realized the war was beginning, leaving you with Fred, Diggory with George, and Neville stuck with Elle. Fred was enough of a shelter for you, easy enough to hide behind and tall enough to shield oncoming fire. George and Diggory had called the tree, which left you and Fred out in the open, merely ducking around the side of the bridge entrance to quickly scrounge up more snowballs. You couldn't feel your hands after a few snowballs, but refused to quit, mainly because Fred would have wrung you out to dry if you dared to quit on him. 

It was quiet following you and Fred sneaking up on George and Cedric to attack from the side, suddenly assisted by Elle and Neville, who heard the commotion and chose an opportune time to strike Diggory and George. You had called for a retreat when George tried to trip you into a snow trap and you just nearly avoided it by springing onto Fred at his command. The minute he'd secured you on his backside, Fred took off back to the bridge and you both collapsed against the back. He high-fived you and noted your hands were turning blue, right as the silence broke and out jumped George, Diggory, Neville and Elle. 

Without a heads up, Fred had gone with a sacrificing holler, "every man for themselves!" and tried to escape, leaving you to be attacked by George and Elle while Neville and Cedric outran Fred. Lucky for you, Elle was hightailing it back to the bush as soon as she was out of snowballs and George had bent down at the wrong moment. 

You kicked out your leg and he toppled into the cushion of snow beneath him. You didn't want to kick him while he was down, but after being berated with snowballs so much that your clothes were actually drenched, you felt it was only fair. George was trying to catch his breath, thinking it was a moment of relaxation before you tossed snowball after snowball. He tried to catch them, but inevitably just exploded them, coating the boyish freckles of his face with snow. You were laughing to yourself when George grabbed your ankle, and pulled it out from under you. The cold of the snow didn't sting anymore, but you found all of it hilarious as you'd taken a second to laugh at George, only for him to trip you back into the snow. You were still laughing when George sat up beside you, raising a brow, "oh you think you're so funny?" 

You nodded, settling into the numb comfort of the snow as your hands fell out beside you in surrender. "I do, actually," you clarified, only toying George who took it as a challenge and rolled to hover just over you. 

"Oh do you now?" George snickered, yanking off his beanie and proceeded to shake all of the snow off of his head and down onto you. You didn't realize the closeness, but howled in gasped giggles, feeling as though inches of snow had burrowed into George's hair and immediately fallen with just one waggle of his locks. ‘Numb’ and ‘cold’ were definitely understatements. George exploded with his own amused triumph, even leaning onto one arm just to wipe the snow from your eyes and cheeks. “My apologies, l/n! It looks like I may have gotten a bit of snow on ya there!” 

“You’re bloody hilarious, you…” your voice trailed off with a tittering and trembling of your teeth, pale purple lips quivering at the cold. Yet, it was not the weather that had you vacant of words. You looked up and felt a trace of George’s breath hinted against the angle of your cheek and it blended the frozen butterflies in your stomach. Now you realized how close he was. With just the length of his arm between you, the capability to force a breath felt absurdly unthinkable. George’s hand lingered and your insides mangled any sanity you reckoned remained at your core, but it was frankly George proceeding to plop his hat down onto your head that fevered flames into the cold rosiness of your cheeks. He even tucked it snug around your ears in to assure they were covered by the warm cotton.

If only you knew, your shenanigans had been observed for some time in great revulsion and loathe from the third floor balcony. Draco had feasted his eyes out of intolerably bitter despise after simply convening with the others in the corridor and glancing out the window to catch sight of small shadows moving among the snowfall. The moment he noticed it was truly you, he split through the center of the group and stomped out onto the balcony’s ledge to get a better look at the tormenting atrocity that was the inclusion of ghastly gingers. The others soon followed after Goyle had strolled after him. They all mocked the childish and shameful frolics as foolish and silly, Pansy and Theo exchanging jokes about the naïve display as Goyle tried to get Draco back to Slytherin. Draco had possibly never felt as much furious, blood-boiling hatred as he did while watching George roll to hover over you. The sensibility in him was snapping and Goyle was the only thing standing in his way when his curled fists demanded to sprint down there and beat the life from that disgraceful dolt. It was a moment, but it lasted far too long. 

Draco glared, even when commotion from the other goons tore you two apart. Draco silently pushed his way through Crabbe and Blaise, storming off with smoke nearly erupting from his ears. The angry stride back to Slytherin had logic rather than bloodlust fueling his temper, but still had him in raging shambles. He threw himself down into his throne once he was back in the Common Room, gripping the arms of his chair like they were that weasel’s throat. He was granted slight seclusion for only a few minutes, the others soon filing into the Common Room and joining him around his seat. 

Theo and Blaise had shoved one another trying to get a seat not on the ground, just as a smaller Slytherin stepped through. He appeared at Draco’s side without the smallest acknowledgement from the infuriated boy, “parcel for you, Mr. Malfoy.” Draco simply snapped his hand up on the arm and the kid slipped the envelope into his fingers. Draco’s jaw clenched as he brought the envelope into view.

“Beat it, tiny,” Pansy hissed, roughly tousling the kid’s hair to steer him away. 

“Letter from home?” Theo asked in a hushed tone, just meaning for it to be loud enough for Blaise’s ears.

“From that look, it doesn’t look to be great news,” Theo replied, still trying to decipher the cold look on Draco’s face. He had not even opened the letter yet, but the group was watching like they could read the clues of it’s content by searching his reaction.

“Hardly,” Goyle stated, standing tall behind the sofa where Blaise and Theo sat. He whacked both of them at the same time, “bugger off you two. Don’t you have your own miserable families to deal with?”

“Yeah losers,” Pansy agreed, tracing her hand around Goyle’s back until she sat at the foot of Draco’s chair. “Everything alright back home, Malfoy?— Ow,” Goyle interrupted her with a tug on her arm and she pouted, “it was just a question—”

“You are number three, Parkinson— Bugger off!” Goyle informed her, attempting to drag her pestering frame away from Draco. The last thing he needed was a repeat of what happened with Crabbe. Draco’s hand rose again to dismiss him once he had ripped the wax seal of his family’s crest from the envelope and retrieved the folded letter. He’d only read a couple of lines before tucking it into the pocket of his robe.

“It’s alright, Goyle,” he declared, straightening his spine in his seat with the slightest lean forward. Everyone hung on his words, almost launching forward with anticipation. Draco smirked towards them, “look out boys, there has been a slight change of plans. It appears you will all be put to my dust at this foolish ball.” 

“You’re attending?” Theo asked, a clear mimic of the expression of surprise and delight shown in all of his friend’s faces. Draco’s head jerked at the sound of a familiar voice as Crabbe found a seat, head still cowered down from Draco’s daggers. 

“Damn, we’re all going to look as poor as the bloody Weasleys standing next to him,” Crabbe commented. Draco snickered under a detesting sigh, priding himself in the attempt Crabbe was making to keep the fresh and tender welts on his face concealed. Even from this angle, he was sure he could make out the shape of his dragon ring dug into the Crabbe’s temple and a slight ache pulsed in his knuckles at the memory.

“Don’t you always, brainless?” Draco retorted. Crabbe was still trying to earn his place back in the court of Malfoy’s reign, and an endeavor it would be to do so. Which meant he was going to be the center of all their ridicule and the cowardly spectacle of their torment, all for a simple joke the others had brought on. Unintentional, and Draco was aware, but that did not alter his mistake.

The peeving peeps of Pansy’s giggling irked Draco as she stood, “he’s right, Crabbe! At least none of the other boys look like an overgrown baby with a goblin face, especially in a tux--” Pansy’s riling tease was interrupted by Crabbe rising to his feet and Pansy falling onto Draco’s lap to protect herself. Draco held a hand to Crabbe, allowing Pansy to slink silkily across his throne and her arms to drape around his neck.

“Now now, Parkinson, he just resembles a toad, he isn’t one,” Draco advised the foolish dame, lifting a brow from Pansy and then back to Crabbe, who recoiled back into his spot on the sofa. “Yet.”

Crabbe rolled his eyes, “you are both assholes.” Goyle and Theo began to discuss class once again, chuckling at the satirizing among themselves.

“Love you too, Crabby,” Pansy winked ironically in Crabbe’s direction, and then batted her lashes back at Draco. “So tell me,” she started, her fingers slowly tracing themselves along the slant of his sage insignia at his collar. “If I’m good, do I get to know what this little letter from home says?” she asked, her hand slithering into the inner pocket of his robe and resting over the curve of the envelope hidden inside. 

“Behaving means no more bullying Crabbe,” Draco sighed, watching her closely with a glance from her enticing gaze to her pouting brims. He knew what she was doing, and it was a game that would actually benefit him more than simple spite. “It may actually be rather fantastic news for you, Parkinson.”

The next day… 

You were settling into your desk the next morning, sucking on a coughing sweet for the itch in your throat. You really should have listened to Neville about finding proper winter wear before spending hours out in the snow in just your uniform, just glad Elle had talked you into borrowing her knitter jumper with the tall neck to keep you warm under your robes. You were tugging the sleeves over your knuckles while sinking into your seat when Blaise plopped himself down beside you.

“Good morning, y/n,” Blaise greeted, a slight smile briefly flashed in your direction. Like Malfoy, Blaise decorated the dapper dark skin of his digits in thick golden rings, embellishments as a reflection of his wealth. Everyone knew about his mother's... mysterious reputation with suitors and wealth, but although he'd truly never been harsh with you, you were aware of the vain judgement he'd had towards you when discovering you were ignorant of blood status. A sum of your being always questioned whether or not any of the boys that had upheld their family's beliefs regarding statures among Wizards was ever individually devised, or just expected of them and therefore understood as their own credence. Did they truly think for themselves, or was all of their hatred hereditary? It appeared to be an awful way to live considering they all appeared to be the exact same down to the core. 

“Good morning, Blaise! How are you?” You grinned warmly upon seeing him, answering him with a polite nod as he placed his books in a neat pile in the upper corner of your shared desk. You had noticed his unusual habits of keen organization when you'd first worked with him, if you were truly thinking back, it had been a potions project second year when he insisted in an arrangement system for the ingredients to simple practice potions. It was not that it was odd, but it had always stuck with you as different for a boy to be as tidily established as Blaise Zabini seemed to be always. If you were to measure, you were sure his tie was knotted in a perfect loop and his tie was a perfect length to his torso. 

“Very well, thanks,” Blaise replied, straightening himself tall in his chair. It was another second of hospitable silence before Blaise leaned over, “question, if you don’t mind?” Blaise was never intentionally cruel, but the morning he'd found you sneaking out of Malfoy's was probably the most he'd ever spoken to you in one conversation. You were expecting the same adrift attitude when you returned to class, but even a greeting from him was not an immediate cause for concern, although it was notably quaint. Did Malfoy put him up to this? You pushed the idea away, knowing the last thing Malfoy wanted was attention on you or him. You wanted to laugh about the possible stories he'd tell his friends, but dwelling on possibilities would quite frankly hurt your own feelings more than knowing what he was actually saying. Why were you thinking about any of this? You should have been paying attention, just now realizing that Blasie had continued speaking beyond a simple acknowledgement. 

“I don’t mind at all,” you assured Blaise, sitting up in your seat to look at him fairly easier. You gestured a quick wave of your hand, “go on.”

“You’re a girl,” Blaise noted with diligence, causing a soft laugh to emit from your lips. He continued, “do girls like being presented flowers when you ask for their hand to something like a Ball, perhaps?”

“Speaking as a girl,” you affirmed, a slight shimmy shrugging through your shoulders. “Sure, but it’s not exactly mandatory. I can’t speak for all girls, of course, but if I could, I would recommend keeping it simple, and save the dazzling for the dance. If I may, who might be the lucky girl you have in mind, Zabini?” 

“I’m not sure yet, trying to think of a plan before picking a girl. Does that make sense?” Blaise explained with a bit of difficulty. The wicked idea only tempted your mind for a second after Blaise had confessed he wasn't sure who he was asking. You weren't the type to seek equilibrium through vengeance, but definitely contemplated it for a mere moment of weakness, There were very few things you could imagine would infuriate Draco more than you asking an acquaintance of his to the Ball after he'd decided you were not attending. Oh, was he in for a treat. “If you could believe it, I’m not familiar with the whole fancy fair the school is planning. At least I’m not as awful as Malfoy! He actually sent to notice to get his father’s tailor to report to the castle for a fitting of his suit—” 

Your head snapped in his direction, just about slipping out of your seat at how fast you sat up and faced him. Your throat was absolutely dry, but the words immediately blurted from your lips, “I’m sorry— Malfoy? Draco is going to the Ball?” you asked, blinking wide eyes at Blaise, who rose a brow.

“You think he wouldn’t?” Blaise questioned with a chuckle. “It is only the perfect opportunity to upstage everyone with his wealth.” You were slightly surprised with Blaise’s candor to Draco’s character, knowing he was exactly accurate in his description. Draco loved nothing more than belittling those less fortunate with solely his wealth and power. Yet, he’d insisted repeatedly… Blaise was still waiting for you to answer, a look of unfamiliar suspicion scrounged across his features.

You cleared your throat, “I had heard something that might have suggested the opposite… But I guess things have changed.” Blush bound itself into the flush of your cheeks, boiling just below the surface of your skin. Most unfortunately, the uncertain hesitancy Blaise held at your response was ransomed by a pesky piping from behind you.

“Bini!” Pansy Parkinson sang aloud, forcing herself between you and jumping up onto the surface of your table with her legs delicately folded over one another. “Scoot over, I’m bored and we still have a couple minutes before class starts. My desk partner is as boring as a bloody roach, what are we talking about here?” she invaded, a curious quirk danced between you and Blaise.

“The Yule Ball actually,” Blaise answered. To your humor, you could have sworn his tone was a bit annoyed.

“Oh how fun!” Pansy cheered, clapping her hands cheerfully together with a noisy chomp of bubblegum. Pansy’s head whirled in your direction, leaning a little too close for comfort, “have you been asked, y/n?” 

“Not yet,” you admitted, the soft smile you failed to hold crept onto your brims, but was almost instantly stolen as Pansy snickered.

“Oh don’t worry, guys get more desperate with a couple of rejections, I’m sure an invitation will come before it’s too late,” Pansy clarified cruelly. You weren’t sure if it was intentional since she admitted it so nonchalantly, as if it was actual advice she wished to convey. It was a mystery why not one portion of that was comforting. Even so, she was not nearly finished. “If not, you should just stay home. How embarrassing it would be to show up to a hall without a date? Could you imagine, Bini?” Pansy’s hand shot out to Blaise’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes with a forced agreement, nodding in a gesture that seemed he was not paying the smallest bit of attention.

“Thanks, Pansy,” you gritted, pursing your lips into a coerced grin. What if this was Pansy being sincere? You couldn’t find it to be cruel, so you asked rather innocently uninterested, “and yourself?”

“I was asked just last night!” You were failing to focus your ears on the words Pansy was speaking, almost assuming all of it was just background noise to your thoughts. Had Blaise just unintentionally ruined his surprise to you? Perhaps he had finally come to his senses and found the perfect way to make it up to you. Heavens, were you getting ahead of yourself; you were already starting to daydream about dress arrangements and a stunning entry that would actually present you as a pair, and Draco had not even asked for your hand yet. Hearing that he had a change of heart towards the Yule Ball after arguing with you was enough to bloom butterflies in your gut and swarm sparkles joyously through your veins. Why were you nervous? But perhaps more saliently significant, why couldn’t you stop blushing? You mocked yourself mentally for behaving like a small giddy child, almost bouncing in your seat with excitement, a bright blush burning your cheeks and a smile swollen to the stretch of your lips. Was Pansy still talking? “It was expected, but took long enough for him to pucker up the courage to ask me! I was almost under the impression he was just going to keep me waiting, but I am truly excited—“ Pansy was proclaiming with free reign and absolutely no regard to anyone’s attention. You believed she was truly speaking because she fancied the sound of her own voice. Blaise sighed finally to get her to stop in her tracks, and then he turned to you.

“Don’t mind her, we usually don’t,” Blaise groaned, allowing his head to roll back off the back of the chair for a second. “Our dear Pansy just likes to brag—“ Pansy silenced him right back with a slap on his arm.

“And I have every right to!” Pansy huffed, folding her arms with a snarky smirk on her lips. “It’s a pretty big deal. After all, I happen to be the one girl that was lucky enough to get asked to the Yule Ball by Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouchy. Oh no, what's this? Seems George is a bit unsure, just as you are? Weird...
> 
> I apologize if the quick 180 from Charlotte (Beauxbatons) to Pansy was sort of unexpected. Perhaps I should have written Draco trying to ask Charlotte to the Ball and getting slapped silly. Keep in mind, this is a Fanfiction, so my characters are 100% written more mature, dramatic, problematic, and tempting. I love you! Please leave your thoughts in the comments, I could also use some dress ideas since it appears you've got a Ball in your future!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far, I am so sorry it was shit.


End file.
